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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058544">More Courage to Live</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaLovestruck/pseuds/LydiaLovestruck'>LydiaLovestruck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of the New American Civil War [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action &amp; Romance, Action/Adventure, Alpha Brock Rumlow, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Better to Overtag, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky is a BAMF, Canonical Character Death, Creepy Alexander Pierce, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Dystopia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Alexander Pierce, Forced Bonding, Gaslighting, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Humiliation, Intersex Characters, Intersex Steve Rogers, M/M, Miscarriage, Misgendering, Modern Bucky Barnes, Modern Steve Rogers, Mpreg, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Steve Rogers, Partial Public Nudity, Pegging, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Abuse, Top Bucky Barnes, Unethical Medical Exam, Unreliable Narrator, Verbal Abuse During Sex, Weird Biology, alpha alexander pierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:55:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>164,040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaLovestruck/pseuds/LydiaLovestruck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In this non-standard A/B/O dystopic political romantic thriller, the 2nd American Civil War breaks out when President Alexander Pierce does not concede after losing re-election. His administration has instituted traditional gender roles and now Steve Rogers, an Omega, will never be allowed to earn his own money or choose his own Alpha – or even have the right to his own gender identity. Steve considers himself a boy, but legally, all Omegas are now girls. Caught while trying to escape to the rebellious states, Steve must navigate the complex politics of a government at war with its own people and a marriage where nothing is quite what it seems.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Col. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is a war hero being celebrated and promoted at the White House due to his valor in combat. An ambitious officer, Bucky has volunteered to be the first test subject for Project Rebirth, intended to create super-soldiers for Pierce's army that will turn the tide of the war, crush the opposition and bring the rebellious states back in line. But Bucky has his own priorities, and when he is a guest at one of Pierce’s gatherings, he is captivated by a beautiful Omega named Stevie, and Bucky’s heart, and his goals, become compromised in turn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Pierce/Steve Rogers, Alexander Pierce/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales of the New American Civil War [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>168</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. How He Got Here</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’ve watched every episode of West Wing at least twice, but I’ve never been to the White House. I’m an unapologetic Progressive who votes Democrat and has been experiencing severe enough anxiety over the events of the past four years that I’ve had to start taking medication for it. This story is an attempt to deal with my worries in a constructive and creative way. All comments are welcome. I’ve been at this fanfic thing a long time. I’ve kind of heard it all. Also, I’ve never been able to write a short story. That’s on me.<br/>This is very much non-standard A/B/O biology. In this, Omegas are a third intersex gender, a sort of cross between cis-males (alphas) and cis-females (betas) and comprising about 25% of the population, plus or minus. Most of the biology is explained in the text, but feel free to ask if something’s unclear so I can explain it in a later note. Further, Steve considers himself male, and would prefer to use he/him pronouns, but Pierce (who is evil-evil-evil) has decreed that all Omegas are female because only females can give birth, and so when the narrative is in Steve’s head, he refers to himself as he/him, but when others are talking about Steve, or the narrative is in their head, he might be referred to as she/her or as a girl (hence the misgendering tag). </p>
<p>The FSA is the Federated States of America (Pierce's rebranding of the US).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The retrofitted school bus clambered and rattled with every pothole and dip its balding tires found on the two-lane road. With each sudden jolt, Steve’s bony right shoulder slammed against the metal side of the bus. He had tried to get comfortable enough to sleep by wedging himself into the corner of the bench seat, but that just made his head knock against the window glass in a rapid, unpredictable rhythm. He wanted to lean the other way, curl up against his mother’s side, but she was braced against the seat in front of them, her feet planted, her expression fixed, and he did not want to interrupt her thoughts even to tell her he was uncomfortable. Everyone on the bus was uncomfortable.</p><p>Behind them, a baby babbled intermittently, seemingly excited by every splash of light they moved past. Somewhere up front, a young alpha lectured someone about the finer point of some Japanese cartoon series. Steve heard murmurings of low conversations from other betas and omegas, but he tuned them out. Like all of them, he was nervous. Scared. Unable or unwilling to hope that freedom lay at the end of the line.</p><p>It had taken them years to reach this point, years of careful planning, penny-pinching and luck to get them here, on this bus, on this under-maintained highway leading the way west and south out of Jackson, leading all the way down to the city of Memphis. There was fighting in Memphis, last anyone heard, but the rebellion had controlled most of the city for most of six months, so there had to be a way to get through to the other side. It was what they were all promised, anyway, and what had supposedly happened to every group transported this way before them. Two trips, twice a month, two thousand dollars per seat. It was a steep price and Steve had made strong case for being able to sit on his mother’s lap. He was seventeen years old but he was scrawny, and two thousand less for travel meant two thousand more to trade with in the Free States. It hadn’t worked. Small though he may be, he still had to pay for a seat.</p><p>Steve thought a moment about all the sacrifices they’d made: fresh food, new clothes, a safer apartment. It was going to be worth it, though. Clean air, plenty of sunshine, lots to eat – it was going to be paradise, vastly unlike how his life had been going. He didn’t remember how it was different before The Election. He’d been too busy trying to learn how to ride a bike and how to make friends and how to write his name neatly at the bottom of the pictures his mother would put up on their refrigerator to care about what the grown-ups kept talking about, shouting about, then whispering about.</p><p>He did remember having to move out of that first apartment, though, to a smaller one with only one bedroom. He remembered having to share a bed for a while with his mother before she brought home a collapsible cot that they set up for him in the living room. He remembered going to the neighborhood school with the plumbing that didn’t always work and the history books that ended with 1945. When he mentioned all that to his mother, she countered by taking him to the local library, and making him watch documentaries on PBS. She worked hard to incorporate math into their everyday life, asking him to help with figuring out the household budget and what they could purchase at the corner market.</p><p>Once he Presented, though, it didn’t matter, since Presented Omegas were not permitted to be educated in the public school system. It weakens their reproductive systems, the Secretary of Education said, makes them bad caregivers to their offspring. So once Steve Presented, at fourteen, he was given a bible, several pamphlets on mating, and a coupon for six free Parenting &amp; Marriage lessons for when his Alpha was ready.</p><p>Steve didn’t want an Alpha.</p><p>At least, not at fourteen.</p><p>Well before then, the mood in the country had shifted so much, and political rhetoric had become so emotionally charged, that when the sitting President of the United States decreed that the election that would unseat him had been tampered with by the opposing side and annulled the results, declared a ‘do-over’ to be held six months in the future – but only if a clean election could be guaranteed and the results trusted – and then just didn’t move out of the White House, the general population rioted in the streets. They took to their state houses and dragged out the governors and cabinet members loyal to the president and demanded they stand up to their party leadership.</p><p>Some did. Mostly those political leaders in the west, such as California and Oregon and Washington, came right out and declared their voting procedures and results correct and true. They refused any talk of ‘do-overs.’ Months passed and negotiations stalled and lawsuits piled up and tensions grew. More and more states joined in, growing the opposing coalition. They kept demanding the president resign immediately and allow his former opponent to take control of the country. He did not.</p><p>The next Christmas came and went and then New Year’s Day and nothing changed. Then Martin Luther King, Jr. Day dawned and a speech from a former-but-still-beloved president was broadcast live over the Internet. By the end of the day, it had been viewed by over 1 billion people worldwide, and civil war had broken out once more in the USA.</p><p>Steve and Sarah lived in a borough of New York City. When the Brooklyn riots began, they were swiftly put down by a heavily-armed police force under official orders to use nonlethal means. They used live ammunition. The police commissioner shrugged when asked to comment on the death toll. We can’t ship them all to Guantanamo, he said, and the liberals made us close Rikers years ago.</p><p>Living in a police state forced Sarah and Steve to become criminals in order to survive. Since it was unlawful for Steve to go outside without an escort, he found ways to hide in plain sight, disguising his identity in order to dumpster-dive for day-old food or seek employment from sympathetic shopkeepers. That effort, plus his improving health, and Sarah finding work as a private nurse for a Wall Street broker, meant they could eventually get the funds and the travel documents to escape.</p><p>Travel within what was left of the ‘loyal’ part of the country, renamed the Federalist States of America, by this time everything east of the Mississippi, north of the north half of Florida, and south of Maine and the New York-Vermont-New Hampshire border, was ostensibly still free, if less comfortable. Claiming a desire to see Williamsburg, the Rogerses left their small one-bedroom apartment and took the train south before finding buses to take them to Jackson, TN. Hooking up with the New Underground Railroad wasn’t difficult. Most churches had information to share, if a person knew the right pass-phrases. Steve and Sarah made their journey south with a surprising lack of fuss or difficulty.</p><p>And then they got on the bus.</p><p>There was a smell on the bus that took Steve longer than he liked to identify: stale urine. There wasn’t a bathroom on the former school bus, of course. Nevertheless, someone had definitely peed on a previous trip and it had not been cleaned up. Without much conversation, the other passengers agreed to crack open their windows to let some cool air through. Their driver, an older Alpha with a big belly, took a swift headcount before closing the door and starting up the engine.</p><p>Six hours later, outside was full dark and Steve was tired of bouncing around in what was essentially a metal box. He tried leaning forward on his arms, bracing himself against the back of the seat in front of him. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder softly rubbing back and forth. He stared down at his feet in their soft-soled shoes, barely touching the metal floor below. He stared down at his feet for a long time, his thoughts drifting to his favorite made-up story. It was about a scrawny boy, much like him, who got the chance to fight for his country, to fight for freedom and true liberty, when a brainy scientist injected him with –</p><p>BANG!!</p><p>The bus jolted to one side of the road and stopped short, throwing everyone forward against the seats in front of them. Steve turned to look out his window and squinted against a bright light shining through right at him. He flinched away, seeing spots in his eyes. His mother’s arm was tight across his back, pulling him almost into her lap. She kissed the back of his head.</p><p>“I love you, Steven,” she said. “Never forget that.”</p><p>He clutched back at her and raised his head. Dim lights had popped on and more lights outside poured in, creating fuzzy shadows inside the bus. The driver was standing at his seat, braced on a metal support pole, leaning down to yell at someone standing on the first step, “You want papers on all these people? You’re going to have to wait-“</p><p>BANG!!</p><p>The bus driver fell backward and an Alpha in the black uniform of the national police force now stood at the head of the center aisle. He smiled at them. Steve felt a cold stabbing sensation in his chest.</p><p>“Good evening, everyone. I am Sergeant Holt. I apologize for your driver, but he had you under a false impression. You all thought you were fleeing the country. Instead, you will be taken into custody. You will do this in an orderly fashion. First row first, stand up, collect your things, and walk outside. We have officers standing by to assist you.” Holt turned as another police officer came up behind him. The second officer whispered into Holt’s ear, then Holt nodded and turned back to the passengers. “Please gather your things and take small children firmly by the hand.”</p><p>Steve’s eyes had adjusted to the interior lights by the time it was his and Sarah’s turn to get off the bus. He followed her down the steps, moving slowly as he took in the controlled chaos of the scene in front of him. He noticed that Sarah moved to the right so he followed her, but then a hand across his chest pushed him to the left. He stumbled, keeping his attention on his mother. She was looking back at him, mouthing something to him over and over again: <em>I love you, I love you, I love you</em>. He nodded and forced a smile, then the next bus passenger came down the steps and he lost track of her.</p><p>Steve found himself in the company of all of the omegas on the bus, standing several yards away from the highway in a clearing surrounded by trees and darkness. Huge klieg lights had been set up to illuminate the ground and the people within. It was almost like pure daylight and just as warm. Bugs flew in front of the lights and Steve was hopeful any mosquitos would leave him alone in favor of the white-hot lamps.</p><p>A young Alpha officer took Steve’s arm, drawing his attention. Without speaking to him, the Alpha placed Steve’s hand on a scanner for ten seconds. A red light turned green and the officer let go, examined the scanner a moment, then moved on to the next. A second officer, this one a Beta, suddenly turned to him, grabbed his jaw and gave his head a shake. “Open up, baby,” she said without rancor or affection, “just need to take a sample.”</p><p>He opened his mouth and she stuck a cotton swab against his cheek muscle. “Hold still,” she said, her left hand still clutching his jaw. She easily popped the swab top closed one-handed and pocketed it, then withdrew a similarly-shaped item which turned out to be a scraper. Steve realized they were about to scrape cells off his cheek to chart his DNA, probably with the goal of mating him to an ideal genetic match so as to produce ideal genetically superior babies, he thought darkly, his mind flashing on the many advertisements decorating every bus, train or lamppost. <em>American Omegas are American Heroines! It’s every true American Omegas’ responsibility to ensure her offspring is of the highest quality by mating herself only to a Certified American Alpha! Find your perfect match at OfficialOmegaListing@US.GOV today!</em></p><p>It was everything that terrified him about living under this government. It wasn’t enough to have outlawed every abortion under any circumstance, to declare every miscarriage a murder, but new laws had been proposed to force every Beta to produce at least three children and every Omega to have a minimum of five, due to activists declaring that ‘an empty womb is a crime against nature.’ To Steve’s knowledge, none of these laws had been passed yet, but that didn’t mean none would.</p><p>When the Beta let go of his jaw, Steve tried to look to where his mother had been led, but it was difficult to see past the halo of the klieg lights. He heard shouted commands and the roar of a semi going by on the highway, the stench of diesel fuel making his stomach churn. He tried to catch the eye of the Beta and asked her, “Hey, can I get my bags? I have some medication to take.”</p><p>She glanced at him. “You’ll be fine,” she replied. “We’re almost done.”</p><p>Her response seemed wrong. “You’re done? With what? We can go now?” But the Beta had moved on to the next Omega.</p><p>Someone nudged Steve’s shoulder. He turned and saw a femme Omega standing next to him. “They’re taking us away,” she said. “I heard one of the police say something about sending us to a federal school.”</p><p>“Christ, no,” Steve swore. “I don’t want to go to one of those.”</p><p>The Omega sneered at him. “You think any of us do? You think you were the only one who’d paid to get out of here? We’re all fucked now.” She laughed without humor, folding her arms and glancing away.</p><p>Steve shook his head and looked at the ground beneath his feet for a moment before asking, “What about the adults? Hear anything about them?”</p><p>The Omega’s face softened. “No. But they’re probably just taking them to jail. I’m sure they’ll be-“</p><p>Shouts and a sharp series of <em>pop-pop-pop!</em> registered in Steve’s consciousness and he pushed his way toward the commotion. Several officers had their arms up, though, preventing him and the other Omegas from moving away from the spotlight toward the continuing pops and screaming that suddenly cut-off.</p><p>Then silence.</p><p>Another semi roared past on the highway.</p><p>An Omega, clearly butch in jeans and a t-shirt, shouted at the nearest officer, “What did you do? Where’s my sister?” and the officer took the butt of his pistol and smacked it across the Omega’s cheek, almost knocking him to the ground except for Steve catching him in his arms.</p><p>“Get control of yourselves,” said the officer. “And get back on that god-damned bus. All of you. Move it!”</p><p>Once back on the bus, in a seat by the window on the right-hand side, Steve could just make out a ditch about forty feet away, a pile of dead bodies, and Alphas in striped uniforms shoveling dirt.</p><p>**</p><p>Just after dawn, Steve and the rest of the Omegas arrived at the Rutherford B Hayes Federal School for Omega Education. Yawning with the others, Steve climbed out of the bus and stood in one of two straight lines on the wide sidewalk in front of the school. The building looked like any public school in an old movie, Steve thought: two stories, brick exterior, lots of windows, steps leading to the doubled front doors. In another life, he would have expected Sandy or Danny to come strutting across the green lawn singing some silly tune about Summer Love or something. Instead, there were uniformed police officers positioned at each corner of the roof, rifles poised and glinting in the morning light, and a large uniformed Beta striding toward them, a nightstick and leather paddle dangling from her thick belt.</p><p>“Good morning, Omegas,” the Beta said, her voice carrying easily. “I am Principal Hawthorne and you will address me as such when you have leave to speak. You do not have leave to speak.” She stopped and surveyed them, her hands tucked behind her back. “Don’t you all look lovely this morning? Well, a little tired, perhaps, but that’s to be expected.” She smiled, her lips orange. “Welcome to the Hayes Federal School for Omega Education. You are Omegas. You are here to be educated. I will do my best to facilitate that education and you will do your best to learn what we have to teach. Right now, I’m sure you’re all hungry. In a few moments, we will let you go inside for breakfast. Then we will proceed you through Intake, get you all checked in and squared away. You’ll have lunch in there somewhere and be in your dorm rooms after dinner. Get a good night’s sleep because your classes start eight AM sharp tomorrow morning. I run a tight ship. Any disobedience will be immediately punished. If I have cause to know your name after one week, consider yourself a troublemaker. Troublemakers stay here longer. Well-behaved Omegas get sent to their forever homes. Officers, I’ll leave you to it.”</p><p>Hawthorne had smiled through the whole speech. Steve wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a troublemaker or not but knew his chances of staying below Hawthorne’s radar weren’t very good. Nevertheless, he followed along when his line was guided into the cafeteria to get breakfast (flavorless scrambled eggs, oddly flat bacon, thin orange juice, one piece of white toast with insufficient butter) and then to a long table. He ate fast, hungry despite the lack of seasoning on the food, then looked around at the others.</p><p>They were clearly as scared, as unnerved by the disruption of their collective escape attempt, as he was. One of the omegas, small and maybe eleven years old, lifted her hand and asked, “Officer, what’s happened to all the other Betas?”</p><p>The officer she’d addressed, an older Beta, stared down at her and grinned like she was being handed a piece of her favorite candy. “What on Earth gave you the impression that you were allowed to ask questions, little Omega? You get your smart mouth from your momma?”</p><p>The young Omega seemed to crumple a bit and Steve found himself standing up and addressing the officer. “Hey! She just wants to know where they went. You don’t have to be mean about it.”</p><p>The officer straightened up and stared directly at Steve, her smile never wavering. “Is that so? Well, let me tell you the truth. Each of you is guilty of breaking the law. The punish-“</p><p>“What law?” Steve asked.</p><p>“The <em>punishment</em> for an Omega breaking the law,” the officer continued in a louder voice, “is re-education at a federal center. The punishment for aiding and abetting the escape of citizen Omegas is summary execution. That answer your question?”</p><p>“You… you just killed them?” Although he’d known it intellectually before, having seen the pile of bodies and the ditch past the side of the road, it could have been a dream, a hallucination, but hearing it spoken out loud, admitted frankly, almost proudly, made it real. It made it permanent. “All of them?”</p><p>The officer shoved the little Omega girl back into her seat as she walked past her toward Steve. “What’s your name, Omega?”</p><p>“Steve Rogers.”</p><p>“Well, ‘Steve Rogers’,” she said with a pleasant smile, “you’ve made several mistakes. You spoke without being spoken to. You interrupted a Beta when she was speaking. You interrupted a federal officer in the performance of that officer’s duties. And last? You questioned the law. That’s traitor talk. Are you a traitor? Are you one of those rebels who’s ashamed to be an American? Was your plan to go across the border and suck the dick of some rebel Alpha so he has the courage to face the might of the Federalist States of America? Well, that ain’t going to happen. You’re going to learn what it means to be an Omega in this country and you’re going to learn to be proud of your status. In a year’s time, your belly’s going to swell with child, who by God’s Grace will be an Alpha, and you’re going to allow that Alpha to suckle from your breast because that is your rightful place: giving your self up in full service to a superior Alpha, and it will be a glorious day and you will thank me for bringing you back to the path of glory. Now turn around, lift up your ass and be grateful for my corrective paddle.”</p><p>Before Steve could begin to process the rush of words, he found himself chest down on the bench, his shoulders wedged between two Omegas, his breath knocked out of him and his ass in the air. He tried to brace his hands on the bench, to push himself up or give himself some breathing room, when he felt a heavy swat on his rear end, and then another.</p><p>The Beta was shouting at them all now. “Listen up, Omegas! Your job is to do what you are told. Be obedient, be silent, be fruitful and multiply. That is what your country expects of you. It’s what your president expects of you and by God, it is what you will do!” She walloped Steve’s behind six more times, bringing tears to his eyes even as he struggled to escape.</p><p>After a moment, the punishment stopped and the officer let go of Steve’s shoulder. He almost collapsed onto the floor in tears. The Beta shoved at him with one booted foot. “Get up and finish your breakfast. It’s a long time until lunch.”</p><p>**</p><p>Intake began with every omega stripping nude and being deloused. It wasn’t pleasant and didn’t feel quite up to current medical standards. Having to walk naked into a room with five other Omegas and have delousing powder flung at their bodies before being asked to bend over and part their butt-cheeks did not make Steve think the doctors here had attended any of the better medical schools. After the two-gloved-fingers-in-the-ass check, and the two-gloved-fingers-in-the-pussy check, they were brought to the showers and watched as they rinsed themselves clean.</p><p>Insufficiently fluffy towels were provided, and then they were given uniforms.</p><p>One of the Betas explained, “The belt with the panty attached goes on first and it goes on around your waist. The panty hangs in the back. Take the panty between your legs to hook up to the belt again. The panty should cover your pudenda in the front and fit between your butt-cheeks like a thong. When you get your heat, you will be provided an appropriate garment.”</p><p>Steve had dreaded underwear like this. It was considered terribly old-fashioned and degrading to Omegas to have to wear it. Still, like the others, he slipped the fabric between his legs and clipped the front end to his belt. He fussed a little with the pouch, making sure his small cock was nestled comfortably. Like all Omegas, he didn’t have a true penis nor a true clitoris.   Anatomically categorized as something between the two, an Omega phallus would, when properly manipulated, sometimes release a mixture of urine and labial slick. This release had nothing to do with an Omega’s sexual fulfillment, orgasm or fertility. It was just something they sometimes did.</p><p>After the panty, they were instructed to slip on the pants, one leg at a time. The pantleg itself was a single tube of white, cotton-blend fabric that hooked onto the belt in two places, just in front of and just behind each hip. The material clung slightly to Steve’s skin, but belled out just above his ankles. Next, Steve slipped on a beige bolero jacket made from a heavier material thankfully lined in soft cotton. The Omegas were instructed to fasten the bolero’s two buttons across their chests before pulling on their navy blue overcloaks or stepping into their flat-bottomed sandals.</p><p>“Proper clothing deserves to be worn properly,” the Beta instructor said. “Articles of clothing are gifts and should be treated with respect. If you cannot care for your clothes, you will be punished. Needles and thread will be found in your nightstands and you will be expected to appear in spotless clothing at all times. If you do not know how to mend or clean your clothing, training will be provided for you.”</p><p>Steve draped his overcloak across his shoulders, pleasantly surprised to realize the cloak was made of a soft fabric that didn’t seem to make him itch. The yoke of the garment was made well enough that it stayed in place while he bent over a bit to make sure his feet were going into his sandals properly. Little more than flip-flops, the shoes at least provided some respite from the cold, slightly grimy linoleum flooring.</p><p>He lined up next to the other Omegas against a wall and waited for everyone to finish dressing. He faced front as the main Beta officer walked in front of them, examining them.</p><p>“Very good,” she said. “You all look like proper Omegas. Aren’t these garments fine? They were made by the winner of last year’s Project Runway. Aren’t you lucky to be wearing such beautiful clothes? Oh, sometimes I wish I could be an Omega.”</p><p>Another Beta laughed at that. “But then you wouldn’t have any guaranteed rights,” the other one said. “Only Alphas and Betas are mentioned in the Constitution, you know.”</p><p>The Beta in charge snapped her fingers. “That’s right! I’d have to give up my rights. I couldn’t even vote. Well,” she said with an exaggerated expression, “I would never do that! Voting is what keeps my president in office. Where he belongs.”</p><p>“God save the President of the Federated States of America,” the second Beta said solemnly.</p><p>“God save him, indeed,” the first Beta replied. “Now, Omegas, turn and march out that door,” she added. “Chop-chop. Let’s go!”</p><p>In the next room, Steve was given his identification papers to review and sign. He read them as carefully as he could, noting that he was listed now as an Unclaimed Omega named Stephanie Rogers from New York State. There was an alphanumeric code after his status: BB79. “What does this mean?” he asked the Beta who’d handed him his documents.</p><p>“That? Oh, that’s the code for your genetic type. It means ‘blond hair, blue eyes, average health.’ So we can match you up with a proper Alpha.”</p><p>Average? If they said so.</p><p>Lunch wasn’t much better than breakfast. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a handful of potato chips from a bag, a chocolate chip cookie with the texture of wet cardboard, and a glass of watery apple juice and all Steve could think of was the soup he and his mother had often enjoyed at the diner down the street from their apartment.</p><p>After lunch, they were divided into age groups, given a tour of the facility, their class schedule, their schoolbooks, and then led to their dorm rooms.</p><p>“You will be taken to the doctor’s office in groups of six,” they were told. “Wait in your rooms until you are called.”</p><p>Their dorm rooms housed six cots and six narrow, three-drawer bureaus. Inside the top drawer was the promised sewing kit. Inside the middle drawer was a single nightdress. Inside the bottom drawer was a selection of sanitary napkins. The cots were already made with a thin sheet and a scratchy wool blanket. The pillows were small and flat. Steve sat on his cot and folded his arms against his chest, tipping his head forward until his chin hit his collarbone.</p><p>This was going to suck.</p><p>**</p><p>In the years to come, Steve would often dream about the medical exam, though ‘dream’ might not be the best word to describe the sense memories that would sometimes come screaming up at him every time he faced a man in a white lab coat, or had his blood drawn, or peed into a cup, or bent over and coughed, or climbed up onto an exam table and put his bare feet into metal stirrups and remained still so that some giggling stranger could insert his rubber-gloved hand inside Steve’s vagina while palpating his phallus and then discuss the results with a blandly amused nurse who just wrote everything down, their pen scratch-scritch-scratching across the paper because they had to make copies, see, they had to press down hard to make copies, the white copy and the yellow copy and the blue copy and the mint green one all had to say the same thing that Steve’s phallus got hard when he was penetrated with the doctor’s four fingers, it got hard and it stood up from its little fleshy hood almost two inches – but not quite! – and look at the copious amounts of slick, why, this one is passionate, isn’t it, so passionate, this one will make its Alpha so very happy and it’s not even in Heat, it’s not even close to its Heat, why, this one has been on suppressants, well that will have to change, won’t it, but only when its Alpha says so, that’s true, only when its Alpha gives consent because gone are the days when Steve gets to decide what his own body will do. He’s not even a ‘he’ anymore.</p><p>**</p><p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">A Sermon on the Nature of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, by Cardinal Phillip Gideon </span>
  </strong>
</p><p>According to God’s own Word, God created Adam, the first Alpha, in His own image. The word ‘Adam’ means ‘the first Alpha,’ Alpha means ‘the first,’ so the name ‘Adam’ literally means ‘the first first,’ or ‘the first of firsts.’ Adam lived in the Garden of Eden, a paradise full of every plant, every animal ever known on Earth. Adam had dominion over all of them, he named them all, and when he was done, Adam complained of being lonely, of having no one to talk to, to share his day with. So, God created Eve, which means ‘Omega,’ or ‘the last one.’ Together, Adam and Eve lived happily in the Garden of Eden. There was only one thing they could not do: eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, which grew in the center of the garden.</p><p>Adam was happy to obey God. He did not question this directive. Eve was curious, though, and this curiosity drew the attention of the Great Deceiver Itself, Lucifer. Now, Lucifer had once been an Angel of the Lord, but Lucifer had questioned God’s decision to create Adam and Eve at all. Didn’t angels fulfill all of God’s needs already? Why did God need humans? Lucifer even argued that angels were superior to humans, since human bodies could only contain a portion of the magnificence that an angelic body could contain. Adam possessed a phallus, but no womb. Eve possessed a womb, but no phallus. Angels had both. Furthermore, humans could not look upon God. They could only see His reflection in the water, His shadow in the sunlight, His footprints in the grass, His movement in the air around them. Humans could only see evidence of God, not God Himself. Angels could look upon His Face and see Him clearly. Why wasn’t that pleasing to God?</p><p>God grew angry with Lucifer’s questions. They argued and fought. God cast Lucifer out of Heaven, never to return. Lucifer hated living in Hell, which literally means ‘the absence of God,’ and he allowed that hatred to fester. He turned himself into a snake and crawled through the Garden of Eden until he observed Adam and Eve long enough to formulate a plan to turn them against God. Lucifer approached Eve one afternoon while Adam was working in the fields and spoke to her about knowledge, about God, and about Humans. He tempted her. He told her that the angels had perfect knowledge, as did the animals around them, and that God had purposely kept it away from humans, kept humans dumb. He told her that the animals were like angels. They could look upon God’s true face, know things God knew. Lucifer told her that humans could come to know everything that even a lowly snake such as Lucifer knew, if only they ate of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge.</p><p>Eve disliked the idea that the other creatures knew things she did not. She was jealous of the animals. She gladly took the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge and bit into it. She savored every drop of its juice, every bit of its flesh, and she reveled in her newfound perfect knowledge. She realized she was naked, and that Adam was naked. She realized she was only a partial image of God, and that Adam was a different image of God. She realized she needed Adam to feel whole. With her newfound canniness, Eve approached Adam with another piece of fruit. She cajoled and teased him into eating the fruit with her. Adam’s faith was strong, but Eve’s seductive wiles were stronger, and he succumbed.</p><p>Adam ate of the fruit. He realized he was naked, and that Eve was naked. He realized he was only a partial image of God, and that Eve was a different image of God. He realized he could feel whole, like God, if he could merge with Eve.</p><p>Eve was delighted that Adam had bent to her will, and now they both knew lust. They began to couple. They coupled for thirty days and nights, ignoring their chores, ignoring the animals, ignoring the plants, ignoring God’s call as He wandered through the garden. God found them, coupling like animals in the shade of the Tree of Knowledge, and he knew immediately what had happened. God grew angry and sorrowful. He knew he could not keep Adam and Eve here in the garden. They would be unable to care for the animals, the plants, or themselves because all they would want to do was couple.</p><p>Adam knew he and Eve had sinned. He explained his shame and guilt to God. God listened, because God is a good father, and He saw that Adam’s heart was remorseful. Eve told God about the snake, about wanting knowledge, desiring to be closer to God. God punished her, because God is a good father and He saw through her self-serving lie. He knew a truly obedient daughter would have been able to ignore any temptation. And, because God is wise, He created Abebe, which means ‘Beta,’ which means ‘the Second One.’ This suggests that God was prepared to create a third or even a fourth version of human. He made Betas like Omegas, with fertile wombs, and He removed the aspect that made Omegas so untrustworthy: their susceptibility to temptation.</p><p>Many have asked why God did not just remove Omegas or adjust their nature. You Omegas are with us now to remind us of the consequences of disobeying God. You are here to remind us of those first sins, those Original Sins, the sin of Disobedience, the sin of Temptation, the sin of Lust. As further punishment, Omegas suffer three days of mindlessness twice a year and terrible pain in childbirth. When they are coupling, they press their faces to the ground. This supplicating position reminds them they are seeking forgiveness from God even as they hide their faces from Him.</p><p>Many have asked why God did not just remove Alphas or adjust their nature. Alphas are with us to remind us that it is possible to learn from our mistakes and repent. Alphas are here as a sign of God’s forgiveness. As their punishment, to remind them of their sin, they are forced to succumb to Omega lust when in the presence of a lusting Omega. They couple on their knees before God, but with their faces raised to Heaven, for they accept their punishment with every good grace. They do not hide from His judgement.</p><p>Since Abebe did not sin before God, Betas are free from mindless lust, free from punishment. They bring forth children at their own leisure, with minimal discomfort. They are equals to Alphas in all regards. They are how Omegas should have been, would have been, had they not fallen to Lucifer’s lies. They were all three cast out of the garden and sent to live in community together, to rely on each other for protection, for prosperity, for propagation.</p><p>And thus we have Alphas, Betas and Omegas, the First, the Second, and the Last, in that order.</p><p>When an Omega forgets that she is last because she has sinned against God, it is our duty as Alphas and Betas to remind her of her place, at our feet, begging our forgiveness, bearing her shame. So that we know when we are dealing with an Omega, that Omega should wear proper clothing to display their body so there is no confusion. An Omega wearing Beta clothes, or even Alpha clothes, is displaying the deceitfulness inherent in the gender and should be punished accordingly. An Omega who does not wear traditional clothing is an Omega who is lying to herself and to the world and worse, trying to lie to God.</p><p>Omegas are weak-willed. Their minds are easily swayed to one philosophy or another. They are constant gossips and idle if left to their own devices. They need strong hands to keep them in line, for they cannot be trusted to regulate themselves.</p><p>Alphas are strong, mentally and physically. They protect society. They provide leadership.</p><p>Betas are dispassionate, objective, inherently fair-minded.</p><p>Let us now consider how these three genders interrelate in society. What lessons does the Bible have for today’s world?</p><p>
  <strong>==Please insert Disk 2.==</strong>
</p><p>**</p><p>Steve tried to resist, but the teachers and staff at Hayes Federal School had more experience dealing with difficult Omegas than he had experience sparking a revolution. Once they realized he could be spanked on his bare backside for over twenty minutes, his skin bruised and blistering and bleeding, and still not repent, they took a different approach. They brought in one of the younger Omegas and spanked her instead. It took them two minutes to break Steve. They spanked the younger Omega another ten just to let the lesson sink in.</p><p>He swiftly became a model student. He sat for his portrait without complaint. He knelt precisely where and when and how he was instructed to kneel. He kept his eyes down and his hands folded and he only cried in the shower if he just couldn’t hold it in any longer.</p><p>**</p><p>Still, if Steve thought his entire time at the Hayes Federal School would be dehumanizing, belittling or cruel, he was not entirely correct. At least one teacher was kind (comportment), and one was otherwise harmless (social dance). The others were mostly just strict, bored and possibly drunk at times. It was difficult to tell. Only two of the guards were consistently looking for excuses to beat them (the standard punishment). The rest preferred yelling, shoving, or threatening glares. For the most part, the Omegas at the school kept themselves in line, and assisted in acclimating any new students to the way things were done.</p><p>In another life, Steve might have realized he was suffering a deep depression from the abrupt change in his circumstances, and the death of his mother, and the absolute lack of anyone in his corner. In this life, however, he was praised for his quiet demeanor, described as ‘demure’ and ‘biddable’ to others, and held up as a perfectly charming Omega.</p><p>That and his BB79 status got the attention of a government official. That government official took a long look at Steve, summoned from Comportment Class for this special honor, ordered Steve’s cloak removed and then said to Principal Hawthorne, “It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Introductions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Meet Bucky Barnes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky Barnes tried not to appear intimidated when he walked into the White House. Thoroughly briefed on the behavior he was supposed to exhibit, he concentrated on maintaining his most soldierly demeanor as he followed a staffer through the warren of hallways and cubicles to a central staircase.</p>
<p>“This is quite an honor for you, huh,” the staffer, a slightly older Beta dressed in a tight-fitting blue dress, said to him. “Getting to meet the president has to be a dream come true.”</p>
<p>“I wish my Mom could see me now,” Bucky replied. “She’d be so proud.” He touched the knot of his tie with a charming grin, grateful he wasn't required to wear his dress uniform for this event. His suit cost more than he was comfortable paying, but even he had to agree with the salesperson that it made him look sexy and powerful.</p>
<p>“’Mom’? You’re a pup?” The staffer paused on the first step and looked back at him.</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am,” he answered easily. “The most beautiful Omega he ever saw, my dad always said.”</p>
<p>“No Beta, I take it?”</p>
<p>He was about to reply ‘just my sister’, which was his standard response when people questioned his parentage, but it was a bad joke in poor taste. It was in worse taste nowadays. “No, ma’am,” he said instead. “My dad fell in love, I guess.”</p>
<p>The staffer’s lips softened. “That’s so romantic,” she said. “Good for him.” She turned and he followed her up the steps to the second floor. A pair of armed guards in full regalia stood at the top of the stairs at rigid attention. The staffer breezed past without pause.</p>
<p>“The other way is the family’s private suite,” she said, waving a hand over her shoulder. “This area is reserved for special guests and friends of the president. The Lincoln Bedroom is back that way, for instance.” She looked at him over her shoulder with a cheerful grin. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and be asked to stay the night.”</p>
<p>He smiled gamely at her and wondered if she were flirting or if she was genuinely excited for him to meet the president. He glanced at the doors as they passed and automatically counted them. At the end of the hall, they turned a corner and faced a set of ornately carved double doors.</p>
<p>“This is the private meeting room,” she said, then whispered, “the <em>previous</em> <em>residents </em>used this for get-togethers and <em>sleep</em>-<em>overs</em>, if you can believe it.” She rolled her eyes, then turned both knobs and opened the set of doors to reveal a large room with a curving window, curtains opened to reveal a truly spectacular view of Washington at night.</p>
<p>“Impressive, right?” the staffer said, standing proudly beside him with her hands folded in front of her.</p>
<p>“I’ll say,” he breathed, taking an unconscious step forward.</p>
<p>“Those are the Joint Chiefs over there,” she said, gesturing to one corner of the room where a group of older white Alphas stood with cigars and drinks in their hands. “Senior Staff over that way, including the Deputy Chief of Staff and the president’s main speechwriter. He used to write for ‘Home Improvement’,” she said confidentially, indicating a group of white Alphas in the opposite corner of the room from the Joint Chiefs.</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” It took Bucky a moment to focus on the Alphas in the room. He wondered briefly how many visits it took before people stopped noticing the view, much less the room they were standing in. It was large, wider than it was deep. Structurally, its focal point was the curving bay window. The furniture, however, had been placed to face away from the view, toward a central open area framed by four long cream-colored couches. A large crystal chandelier hung suspended over the center of this space. Bucky looked up to see a high ceiling painted over with what looked like cherubs and angels and a large figure in yellow robes on a throne.</p>
<p>Bucky forced himself to look at the people in the room, resolving to take a moment later to figure out what the art on the ceiling might represent. The staffer either hadn’t noticed his distraction or she had taken it for awe. She smiled proudly at him. “These are the real power brokers in Washington,” she said. “That’s the Senate Majority Leader and the Speaker of the House over there. The president’s sons will be arriving soon. You’ll stand when they enter the room.”</p>
<p>He frowned. That wasn’t protocol. “Why?”</p>
<p>She tilted her head at him like a puzzled collie. “It means the president will be right behind them.”</p>
<p>He dipped his head in chagrin. “Of course. I look forward to meeting them, too.”</p>
<p>She touched his arm just below the elbow. “Pro tip? Don’t talk shop tonight. This is to meet, mingle and make merry. Network, but don’t <em>do</em> work. Okay?”</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be going now. This isn’t much of a Beta thing.”</p>
<p>He thanked her and she left. An Alpha waiter walked up to him with a tray of canapes. “What are these?” Bucky asked, taking one of the precariously stacked bite of food.</p>
<p>“Deconstructed shrimp cocktail,” he replied. “Please enjoy.”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled his thanks and the waiter walked away. Another one passed by and Bucky snagged himself a glass of white wine. The deconstructed shrimp cocktail was cold and slimy in his mouth, and not, he decided, worth a room this fancy. He’d heard that this President preferred simple food. He’d certainly been photographed eating enough pizza, hamburgers and taco bowls for that to be believable. Bucky had just hoped that, in private, in the White House, the food might be better.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, Bucky took a deep breath and walked toward the corner where the Joint Chiefs were hanging out. He saw a bar there, polished wood, brass fixtures, and a pair of Alpha bartenders (young, college-aged) in old-fashioned bartender uniforms. One smiled as Bucky approached, nodded at his request and produced a perfectly poured Guinness in short order.</p>
<p>Within five minutes, the Joint Chiefs had noticed Bucky. In eight minutes, Bucky had them laughing at the punch line of a story from his second tour in Iraq, and that’s when President Pierce walked in.</p>
<p>The presidential family was small, two sons and one daughter. There were credible rumors of a second daughter from a mistress back in the 80s, but no one ever mentioned her or agreed on who her mother might have been. The president had divorced his first wife more than twenty years ago. His second died in mysterious circumstances. The third, an immigrant from Romania, had produced one Alpha child upon whom she doted and the president never mentioned. Bucky had seen only one photograph of the mother and child; they seemed particularly close. That divorce was handled quietly enough one year after the Stolen Election, and within six months, he was marrying his fourth wife, a Russian beauty who had been a prima ballerina before attracting the president’s attention.</p>
<p>Accompanying the president tonight, however, was his oldest son and presumed heir, Alexander, Jr., and the ‘spare’, Ivan. Bucky knew Junior often acted as his father’s attack dog in the press and at rallies. His unofficial role seemed to be ‘hype man’ for his father’s administration. In the press, he was the administration’s go-to guy to provide commentary or justifications for his father’s decisions and for the war that was dividing the country. Cultivating a friendship or even, if he were lucky, a mentorship with Junior would be one possible way for Bucky to achieve his ultimate plans. He would probably need to impress Junior somehow and soon if he chose that path to gain the president’s favor. Ivan, everyone knew but no one said out loud, was just lucky to be there. Ivan could be safely ignored.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, tonight was meant for other things and Bucky was just one of the crowd. President Alexander Pierce had indeed followed his son through the door. Every Alpha who had been sitting down stood up as Junior and Ivan turned to begin applauding their father’s entrance. Like the others, Bucky swiftly followed suit, clapping as hard and long as the others while being sure not to be the first nor last to stop.</p>
<p>The president held up a hand as the room fell silent. Bucky could see most of Pierce’s head and one shoulder through the forest of Alphas in the room. He glanced around and noticed that every waiter had left, except for the older bartender behind him, who simply stared impassively at the room. Bucky refocused on Pierce as he began to speak.</p>
<p>“My friends, thank you all for coming once again to my little party, my little <em>soiree</em> as my beautiful wife likes to call it. My <em>soiree</em>, she calls it, in her little accent. ‘Oh, are you going to your <em>soiree</em>, dear,’ she’ll say to me. My <em>soiree</em>.” He chuckled. “Well, it’s not so little, is it?”</p>
<p>A wave of laughter filled the room. Bucky forced a chuckle, not quite seeing what the joke was. He estimated  forty or so Alphas in the room. Was that what Pierce meant? It was the most coveted invitation in Washington, though no one spoke about it openly. It had taken Bucky six weeks to get his invitation, and he was a celebrated war hero with four tours of duty.</p>
<p>“No, no, it’s not so little at all,” Pierce was saying. “Although this one is. Isn’t it lovely? Oops! I said ‘it.’ The filthy progressives will be so upset with me. All right, all right, ‘she.’ Is that better? Isn’t <em>she</em> lovely? Oh, that’s the great Stevie Wonder. Great musician. Just great. A traitor now, of course, but you can’t have everything. Unless you’re me!”</p>
<p>Another wave of laughter. Another forced chuckle. Bucky sipped his Guinness. At least that was good.</p>
<p>“No, no, all kidding aside, it’s lovely – oops! I did it again!” Pierce smiled at the room and then looked down at something to his right. Bucky couldn’t see from where he stood, so he moved a step or two to one side, tilted his head, and there, standing beside Pierce, head bowed and dressed in a blue silk overcloak, was an Omega.</p>
<p>Shit, Bucky thought. The rumors were true: President Pierce had a new Omega. He was right now showing her off to his friends, family, senior staff, and Bucky, who wasn’t any of those things.</p>
<p>Pierce held up his arms and took a step or two backward. “What do we think, fellas? Should we see what’s underneath? Yes?”</p>
<p>The Alphas in the room shouted as one: “Yes!” Caught off-guard, Bucky opened his mouth a moment too late. He glanced at the Alphas around him, but no one seemed to be watching his reaction. They were all fixated on the Omega in the center of the room. A faint whiff of pheromones caught Bucky’s nose.</p>
<p>“All right, since you all asked so nicely,” Pierce said. “I think this one is particularly lovely. I think you’ll agree.” With a flourish, Pierce pulled the overcloak off the Omega’s head. The shiny blue silk slid off the Omega’s body and Pierce tossed it aimlessly toward one of his sons.</p>
<p>There was a collective sigh and an approving murmuring from the other Alphas. One of the generals elbowed Bucky, catching his eye with a sort of ‘did you get a look at that?’ kind of expression. Bucky forced a smile and a mouthed the word ‘wow’ at him. He shifted a little further to the side, found an open spot with an even better view and moved into it. He was about fifteen feet away from the Omega now. He could see everything.</p>
<p>The Omega was maybe five and a half feet tall and no more than 110 pounds. The Omega wasn’t underfed, exactly, more like slender or sleek. The Omega’s hair was bright and blond and curled over the neck in a single wave. Bucky could see the hint of a collarbone across a narrow chest framed by a blue bandeau that stretched across a small bosom. The Omega’s torso was exposed down to a slightly narrowing waistline where a thick gold belt hung, fastened with a small gold padlock, positioned directly below the Omega’s navel. Long blue pants hooked onto the belt in the traditional fashion, gaping open to reveal a gold phallus pouch which protruded from the Omega’s body as if the phallus were erect. The Omega’s arms hung loose, each wrist bearing a thick gold bracelet with tiny chains dangling from their clasps, more for effect than function.</p>
<p>“This is Stevie, everyone,” Pierce was saying. “Don’t worry. Everyone will get a chance to meet Stevie. Smile now, Stevie. Be polite.”</p>
<p>Stevie’s head lifted and Bucky could see Stevie had huge blue eyes, thick lashes, and pink lips that parted in a soft smile. Then Stevie said, voice soft and trembly, “Hi.”</p>
<p>Stevie was the most beautiful Omega Bucky had ever seen. A surge of want and desire filled Bucky’s loins and he felt his chest expand and his shoulders shift. Bucky’s cock swelled in his pants, but he dared not draw attention to it, not surrounded by so many strangers. He smelled pheromones again and hoped he wasn’t broadcasting his own sexual interest too strongly.</p>
<p>“That’s enough, Stevie,” Pierce said. “Come sit with me. Come on, now.”</p>
<p>Someone had brought in a huge, high-backed chair, painted and trimmed in gold, cushioned with red velvet. Pierce’s special Presidential Seal had been stitched onto the back cushion where Pierce’s head rested as he sat down, his legs spreading. Stevie was now climbing up onto Pierce’s lap, balancing her ass on Pierce’s thigh, slipping her right arm around Pierce’s neck and leaning onto Pierce’s chest like a small child.</p>
<p>Pierce slapped his hand on Stevie’s rump. When Stevie didn’t jump or startle, Bucky got a little suspicious. He moved to another spot with a better view of Stevie’s face. Stevie stared into some middle-distance, her feet softly swaying as they hung between Pierce’s legs, brushing up against the cuffs of Pierce’s trousers.</p>
<p>“Come on, fellas, come say hi and see what you think!”</p>
<p>The other Alphas formed a kind-of line, as far as Bucky could tell. They seemed to know who was meant to approach Pierce when. Bucky hung back and tried to figure out the pecking order.</p>
<p>He hadn’t realized that Vice-President Nickels was present, but he was the first one to walk up and greet Pierce and lean over Stevie and do… something. Bucky couldn’t tell but it didn’t take long before the Speaker of the House and then the Senate Majority Leader walked up, too. From there, it seemed to be a randomly generated procession, and it wasn’t until more than half the room had gone up and, Bucky was almost certain that each one was doing this, <em>sniffed</em> Stevie – some of them even touched his skin – that the Chief of Staff, Phil Coulson, bumped Bucky’s arm and gestured toward Pierce’s chair.</p>
<p>“You’re an honored guest, Colonel Barnes,” Coulson said. “You should have gone much earlier than this. I regret I didn’t greet you earlier, but I was held up at the office.”</p>
<p>Bucky followed Coulson toward Pierce who had taken notice of the two of them. “Ah, yes, Colonel Barnes,” Pierce said loudly. “A great man. A great soldier. If only we had a thousand Alphas like you, we could win this war.”</p>
<p>“Working on that, sir,” Bucky replied.</p>
<p>Coulson nodded his head. “Yes, Colonel Barnes is hoping to help us with the Rebirth Project,” he said in confidential tones. “He’s applied to be our first test subject.”</p>
<p>“Excellent,” Pierce said. “That’s going to be great. An army of super-soldiers retaking our country, retaking our place in the world. It’s going to be an amazing sight.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it will be, sir,” Bucky said. He felt Coulson’s hand on his back give him a push. Confused, Bucky looked at Coulson whose expression was bland even as he gestured with only his eyes at Stevie.</p>
<p>Coulson barely parted his lips to say, “Sniff him.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. He looked up at Pierce for permission, but Pierce just regarded Bucky through coolly narrowed eyes. Bucky sensed Coulson’s impatience. He looked at Stevie and bent toward the Omega’s neck.</p>
<p>Up close, Stevie was even lovelier and more tempting than before. Stevie smelled like vanilla and lavender and sunshine and, under all that, the musky sweetness of low-level Omega arousal. Up close, he realized that Stevie’s huge eyes were more than just huge, the pupils were enormous. Stevie was drugged. Knowing that, Bucky leaned closer to Stevie’s neck and sniffed deep enough to detect a medicinal scent, like camphor, maybe. He let the smell of Omega arousal fill his nose and mouth and lungs. A moment later, the euphoria hit him. Bucky straightened, met Pierce’s calculating gaze, and said politely, “Thank you, sir. Your Omega is very sweet. You’re a lucky Alpha.”</p>
<p>“Damned straight, I am,” Pierce said with a grin. Bucky couldn’t help but see Pierce’s right hand grip Stevie’s buttock hard, the flesh going whiter between his fingers. There was a small puckering frown between Stevie’s eyebrows, but her gaze remained distant and unseeing.</p>
<p>Bucky nodded again and backed up. Coulson held one hand on Bucky’s arm as he leaned over and sniffed Stevie himself. When he straightened back up, he said to Pierce, “Thank you, sir. I look forward to earning a few hours for myself.”</p>
<p>Pierce laughed. “Coulson, you’re my favorite, you know that. You do all those horrible things I hate doing. The paperwork and the-the meetings. I like you, Coulson. You’ll get your six hours, don’t worry.”</p>
<p>Coulson thanked him, then led Bucky to a corner of the room outside of Pierce’s direct line of sight. “It’s good to officially make your acquaintance, Captain America. I’m a big fan.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Bucky said. “I was just doing my duty. I don’t know where all this ‘Captain America’ stuff came from.’”</p>
<p>“You’re a hero,” Coulson said, slapping him hard on the arm. “You’re what eighty percent of the Alphas in this room would give their knot to be: brave in the face of danger.” He shook his head and leaned in conspiratorially. “Most of these Alphas are cowards. You and I know what it means to defend your country by spilling blood.”</p>
<p>Bucky swayed a little. The Omega scent had hit him harder than he’d expected. His chest seemed to be expanding with every breath. His clothes felt tight. He wanted to hit something. He looked around the room. The line in front of Pierce’s chair had dwindled to nothing. Now that all the Alphas in the room had sniffed the Omega, they were experiencing the heady effects of the arousal pheromones. They were all like Bucky, even Coulson. They all wanted to fight someone, to prove themselves, to test their mettle.</p>
<p>It was a biological imperative. Aroused Omegas gave off attracting pheromones. Alphas scented those pheromones and went into a kind of rut. They became more aggressive, more physical. Even the scrawniest Alpha would, if given enough Omega scent, challenge the biggest, toughest Alpha around, all for the chance to then mount that aroused Omega. In turn, that aroused Alpha’s scent would trigger in the Omega even more pheromones that would encourage the Alpha’s sexual stamina while making the Omega even more receptive. Bonding would occur if the Alpha’s knot were pushed up inside the Omega and allowed to remain while ejaculating, which could take almost ten minutes, if the porn industry were to be believed. A secondary Alpha hormone would be released through the ejaculate and absorbed by the Omega’s womb which would emotionally bind them together. That bond would last about twenty-four to thirty-six hours, or until the Omega’s body knew if it were pregnant or not. If the Omega had gotten pregnant, the bond between them would strengthen and grow until the birth, encouraging the two to stay close to each other for protection of the vulnerable Omega and future offspring. Otherwise, the bond would fade.</p>
<p>Of course, human beings being what they were, Alphas had early on recognized that sniffing an Omega who was emitting low-level amounts of pheromones had the effect of increasing Alpha feelings of well-being, power, energy, focus, drive, ambition – in short, they felt potent and manly. They got high. Ancient armies would watch Omegas engage in orgies in enclosed spaces, the pheromones almost making the air thick as smoke and just as impossible to avoid, before going off to battle. Gladiators would sniff Omega slaves before combat. Omegas would often feature in ancient religious rites for the same reason.</p>
<p>It struck Bucky just then that this was what this reminded him of: a religious rite. Lining up to bow before the leader, to sniff the leader’s Omega, to then feel powerful and alive and associate that strength and vitality with bowing before the leader rather than with the ‘lowly’ Omega. The realization dampened his fever. He looked at the Omega, still sitting on Pierce’s lap, Pierce’s hand now fondling the small breasts on the Omega’s thin body. The blue bandeau had been pushed down to the Omega’s waist, loosened, apparently.</p>
<p>As Bucky continued to watch, barely paying attention to whatever Coulson was saying to him, Pierce’s fingers plucked at the Omega’s – at Stevie’s – nipples, and Stevie shuddered, wriggled and twisted on Pierce’s lap. Stevie’s mouth fell open and Bucky would have sworn he heard Stevie utter a small cry. Stevie’s legs kicked out ineffectually as Pierce’s face dipped downward, his lips now suckling at Stevie’s breast.</p>
<p>Bucky took a step toward Pierce and found himself blocked by Coulson, who had his hands up on Bucky’s chest and a placating expression on his face. “No, you don’t want to do that, Colonel Barnes. That’s the fastest way to get yourself fired in disgrace. Go challenge else someone to a fight. Challenge me, if you must, but don’t make that mistake.”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t deserve Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice a low growl.</p>
<p>“No, he probably doesn’t,” Coulson agreed. “But he’s got him. He’s got all of us and he wants us to know it.”</p>
<p>“Him?” Bucky repeated.</p>
<p>Coulson nodded. “Steve prefers to use male pronouns.” Off Bucky’s curious look, he added, “I met him when he got here a few days ago.”</p>
<p>“Him,” Bucky repeated, now looking at Stevie with more fondness. “He’s perfect.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, you say that because you smelled him,” Coulson said. “You’ll feel different if you get out of this room. Take a shower. Don’t take a bath. The pheromones will just soak into your skin and you’ll keep breathing them in with the steam. Take a shower.”</p>
<p>“I want him.”</p>
<p>“Go sit down,” Coulson said with a push. “Have something to drink. This will fade. Talk to me about the mission in Atlanta. You saved all those men, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Bucky said. He moved where Coulson pushed him, and when he sat down, he couldn’t quite see what was happening in the chair between Pierce and Stevie. Coulson handed him a beer and a plate of mini-quiches.</p>
<p>“Food will help,” Coulson said. “Now, tell me about that mission.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Bucky woke in the morning with a massive headache, but at least he still had a job. He hadn’t embarrassed himself by challenging President Pierce for his Omega and then been thrown on the floor by Secret Service agents wearing filtering masks. Not like the Junior Senator from Kentucky, who was now facing a primary challenge backed by Pierce, according to the morning news brief on his phone. Of course, the news report made no mention of a party or any Omega. It just said that Pierce and the senator had come to a disagreement of policy regarding the direction of the country, that the senator was no longer a True Patriot, and that any challenger to his seat would be supported by the president in the next election.</p>
<p>“Okay, Colonel,” Bucky told himself in the mirror beside his front door as he gave his tie one last adjustment. “You can do this. Your country is depending on you to be smart, daring, and fearless. It isn’t about you. It’s about them.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Orientation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve gets a tour of his new home, a description of his new responsibilities, and meets new people.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve had never been to Washington, DC, before, but he’d seen pictures. His mother had gone down for a protest march years before, leaving young Steve in the care of their neighbors. She’d toured most of the monuments and parts of the Smithsonian and shared the photos with him when she’d returned. Now he was going to the White House himself, apparently, though neither of his escorts explained the reason why.</p>
<p>“We’re just instructed to get you there,” they said. “We just do what we’re told.”</p>
<p>It didn’t take long to get from the school to DC. They didn’t even make any stops. Steve just sat in the back seat of the SUV and watched as the landscape around them went from pastoral countryside to small town to small city. Then they crossed the Potomac and were in DC where traffic almost immediately slowed to a crawl. Somehow, the SUV managed to navigate the street grid until they pulled up to a white guard house. A uniformed officer spoke quietly to the driver, then Steve saw a security arm lift and a wrought iron gate open and then the SUV was pulling through.</p>
<p>Steve’s heart beat a little faster. Was this the White House? It was certainly a white building, though they were clearly pulling up to some kind of service entrance.</p>
<p>The SUV stopped and the guards got out. One of them opened the side door. Once Steve was standing on the asphalt driveway, his cloak twitched back into place around his shoulders and blocking most of his peripheral view, the guard reached back into the SUV and got out Steve’s backpack with the few belongings he’d been given from the school. Steve took it with disguised reluctance. There wasn’t anything in the backpack that had historically been his. All of those things he’d taken from Brooklyn, the clothes, the sketchbooks, the pictures of his parents, were deemed to be distracting to Steve’s true purpose and were thus declared to be contraband. He hadn’t seen those things in months. Nevertheless, this was all he owned, so he took the backpack and clutched it in his arms before following his escorts into the building.</p>
<p>This was indeed a service entrance, for they passed by several uniformed Betas and Alphas who were pushing along boxes of supplies on pushcarts, hurrying with clipboards of papers, loudly discussing delivery orders and schedules. He smelled food as they passed a set of swinging doors, and he glanced through the little glass windows in each door to see a sloping hallway tiled in green and white. They turned a corner, went up a short set of steps, and into a wider hallway. A few more rights and lefts and then the lead escort knocked on an open door and leaned in.</p>
<p>“Mr. Coulson, sir? We’re back.”</p>
<p>“Excellent. Bring it on in, then you can go.”</p>
<p>Steve’s escort pushed him firmly through the doorway and then he heard their footsteps walk away. Mr. Coulson was alone in the office. Besides this pleasant-faced Alpha with thinning hair, a strong jaw and a mild expression, the room had two desks each with chairs pushed back from them. Steve saw computer monitors and keyboards at each desk, as well as stacks of file folders and other papers. The room itself was richly paneled and carpeted in a traditional style. Steve suddenly felt out-of-place in his traditional school uniform and flat sandals.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Coulson said. “You must be the Omega we ordered. Stephanie Rogers, right?”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. He had so many questions but strangely, couldn’t bring himself to care enough to ask any.</p>
<p>“Come on through to my office,” Coulson said. “I have your file in there.” Coulson turned and led Steve through one of a set of paneled doors he hadn’t immediately noticed. He found himself in another office. This room had one large desk, two small, cushioned guest chairs, a small couch, one wall with a white mullioned window and two with tall bookshelves each stuffed with books and folders and files and stacks of paper. High up on the wall opposite the desk were four television screens, muted, each showing what looked like news reports. There was yet another paneled door leading somewhere else. It was a lot of stuff for a room maybe ten by eight feet.</p>
<p>Coulson moved behind his desk and made a gesture at the guest chairs. Steve hesitated, then sat down, setting the backpack as his feet. In the school, he hadn’t been permitted to sit in the presence of Principal Hawthorne; he’d expected the White House to have the same rules. He adjusted the cloak to lay more comfortably across his knees, then looked up at Coulson with what he hoped was a neutral expression.</p>
<p>“Ah, here we go.” Coulson had been searching through a stack of folders, then pulled out a thin one and opened it. Steve caught a quick glimpse of one of the photos that had been taken of him the first week at the federal school. Coulson glanced up at Steve. “Nice picture, by the way. It really showcases your bone structure.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t respond.</p>
<p>“You probably have questions,” Coulson went on after a moment. “I’m here to answer any that you want to ask. As you’ve no doubt assumed, I’m Phil Coulson, the president’s current Chief of Staff. He’s entrusted me with this task because I have his confidence. And by ‘this task,’ I mean, of course, you. Your acquisition, if you will. Now,” he said, paging through the file, “you were not our only candidate, but you were definitely the front runner. The president prefers Omegas with your coloring, you know, and as the First Lady won’t be providing any heirs, he’s eager to secure his succession.”</p>
<p>Steve frowned. “Excuse me, sir, but doesn’t the President have children already?” He braced himself for an angered reaction to him speaking out of turn.</p>
<p>“Of course, yes, he does,” Coulson said with a small smile. “But he’s looking toward the future and he wants to be certain that the best one becomes president after him, should the people properly elect him, of course.”</p>
<p>Steve felt his left eye twitch and he purposely blinked in an effort to disguise it.</p>
<p>“That’s where you come in, of course.”</p>
<p>Steve had had surgery as a toddler to correct a small defect in one of his ventricles, but still felt his heartbeat skip when he heard Coulson’s next words:</p>
<p>“You’ll provide him with that perfect heir.”</p>
<p>“I will?” The words leapt unbidden from his lips.</p>
<p>Coulson nodded, the smile on his face never wavering. “You will. It’s a great honor to be chosen to bear the president’s offspring, and that honor has now fallen to you. Congratulations, Stephanie Rogers. This is a happy day for you. Now,” he said, looking back down at the file once more, “I understand both your parents are deceased?”</p>
<p>Steve nodded.</p>
<p>Coulson favored him with a friendly sort of grin. “That was actually a prerequisite. The president does not like dealing with in-laws. He wanted a blond, blue-eyed Omega with no family to come demanding any favors from him. He’s not selling the presidency, you know. I just wanted to be certain this file was correct,” he said, returning his attention to the pages. “No surprises! No, sir,” Coulson said, almost as if to himself.</p>
<p>Steve wondered if the president had gotten many surprises and what the consequences might have been.</p>
<p>“I get the impression, since your given name was Steven, and believe me, we pulled the original birth certificate to be sure, that you were expected to present as an Alpha?”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. I never asked.”</p>
<p>Coulson nodded. “Of course, not. As you know, the Hayes School took the liberty of changing your name officially to ‘Stephanie.’ Do you prefer it?”</p>
<p>“No, sir,” Steve replied firmly. “I’m a boy. On the inside. I feel like a boy, I mean. It feels right when I’m called a boy. It feels wrong to be called a girl. Not that there’s anything wrong with girls,” he hastened to add.</p>
<p>“Of course not,” Coulson said. “Some of my best friends are girls.” He grinned again. “Anyway, I’ve got your medical exam results here,” he went on, sobering as he picked up a form from the file. “It says you had some minor birth defects, but that they were easily corrected and unlikely to be passed on. Omega genes are generally recessive, you know,” he added. “That means you’re unlikely to pass on anything bad unless your Alpha has it, too.”</p>
<p>That had been explained at the federal school. Omegas were prized because their children were statistically healthier than the children of Betas, once all variables had been accounted for, and they were more fertile than Betas, and they could bear more children more easily than Betas could (at least, in theory). However, their fertility dropped off steadily after the age of thirty or so, as their heat cycles slowed down, while Beta fertility continued unabated well into their forties.</p>
<p>Steve’s mother said it was Nature’s way of keeping things balanced.</p>
<p>The federal school said that it was God’s way of telling the world that, since Omegas could produce one child a year without noticeable strain on the Omega’s reproductive system, they should while they could.</p>
<p>“I see you wore a back brace for a while?”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. He had despised that brace. It was painful and humiliating and impossible to disguise and made sleeping difficult and his waking life a hell, but once it was finally removed and he stood straighter and taller by another two inches? That part was pretty sweet.</p>
<p>“It’s unlikely any offspring will have to worry about that, either,” Coulson said. “Let’s see. Your overall health is actually pretty good. You haven’t even had an asthma attack since your intake at the school. We’ll keep you on that medication. Your bloodwork looks good. You’re a certified virgin. I think everything’s all set. Ready to see where you’ll be staying?”</p>
<p>Oh, Jesus, Steve thought. This was real and it was happening and it was so real. He felt his palms sweat but he lifted one shoulder in a shrug while coughing out a halfhearted ‘sure.’</p>
<p>“Come on, then.” Coulson stood and gestured Steve out through a different door from his office into a small he-didn’t-know-what-to-call-it a vestibule, maybe? A badly designed closet? A small square room with only three doors that couldn’t be opened all at the same time or they’d bang into each other? Coulson just closed the door they’d come through and opened the door directly across from them and kept walking.</p>
<p>Steve followed him and found himself suddenly outside on a familiar loggia. As he trailed Coulson, his attention straying to the open air, the fragrant garden, the grass and the sky, he realized he’d seen this loggia on the news, in interviews and news reports. This was the loggia that the president would use to get to the Oval Office. He turned his head to the left just in time to realize he should have been looking left the whole time. They’d been walking right past the Oval Office and people were inside it. But now Coulson had taken him through a different door that led back into the building. Directly in front was a staircase leading straight up to the second floor. Beyond the foot of the staircase, Steve got a glimpse of Betas working at desks in yet another office. Phones were ringing and shoes were click-clacking on a wood floor nearby.</p>
<p>Coulson didn’t pause, though, so neither did Steve. He followed Coulson up the stairs to a narrow landing, turned and came into a completely unexpected space. Downstairs was a series of offices, desks and people in business clothes bustling around having important conversations. Up here it was quiet, every sound almost muffled, and every color deep and rich and thick.</p>
<p>“This floor is for the First Family,” Coulson explained, and how he managed to maintain the same conversational tone and volume as he had earlier, Steve did not know. “And honored guests, too, of course. The public tour does not come through here. The secretaries downstairs? The staff and the interns and all of them? They don’t come up here, either. Only certain employees, myself included, are permitted to come up to this floor without an express invitation. And you, of course. But you’ll only be permitted to go downstairs with an acceptable escort.”</p>
<p>Fantastic, Steve thought. I’m a prisoner on a private floor.</p>
<p>Coulson led him from this landing with its pair of Edwardian style chairs and little table and lamp to the central corridor that ran the length of the building. The stairs Steve had come up were about a third of the way along this passage. Coulson turned to the left, toward the middle of the building, and took Steve to a specific door outside of which stood a guard in full military dress. Coulson ignored the guard, knocked twice on the door and opened it.</p>
<p>“Ma’am?” he said, his voice soft and respectful, “are you ready to meet the Omega?”</p>
<p>Steve heard a scoffing noise and realized that it must have come from the First Lady, Natasha Pierce, the former Russian ballerina who had ‘soothed the broken heart of the country’ when she agreed to marry the president (or so the lead anchor on the state news network said while reporting on their wedding). He straightened. The First Lady had always seemed impossibly beautiful and remote and a little scary. The realization fell like a boulder into his stomach when he recognized more of the trap he had been put in.</p>
<p>He wanted to run. It was too late to run.</p>
<p>He wanted to scream. Screaming would only bring the guards who would carry him off to prison or worse.</p>
<p>He wanted a god or an angel or a demon to suddenly appear and offer a deal to get him out of it because he’d probably take it even if you should never accept one of those deals because they never turned out the way you expect them to and he was moving forward, into the room, stepping past Coulson’s placid smile and watching as Natasha Pierce stood in front of him, her hands on her hips and a decidedly unimpressed look on her lovelier-in-person face.</p>
<p>“This is it?” she asked. Her accent was thick, but understandable.</p>
<p>“This is <em>him</em>, yes,” Coulson answered.</p>
<p>“Him?” Her eyes, so perfectly green and almost cat-like, flicked toward Coulson. “My husband will not appreciate a ‘him.’ He specifically asked for a breeding bitch and you bring me this, this <em>boy</em>? Unacceptable. Bring him another.”</p>
<p>Steve enjoyed a moment of wild hope – he could be replaced! He could be set free! – when Coulson shook his head. “I’m afraid this is the one the president chose, ma’am. He’d have to wait another two years for the next likely candidate to present. He was extremely particular about what he wanted. I apologize for my misgendering.” He glanced at Steve, then swiftly returned his attention to the First Lady.</p>
<p>Steve wondered just what the president did want. There were other blond-haired, blue-eyed Omegas at the federal school. Why couldn’t the president have chosen one of them instead? Why did it have to be Steve? Why were there so few on the ‘acceptable’ list? Questions were tiring, though, and so rarely answered satisfactorily, so Steve let them slip from his mind.</p>
<p>The First Lady made another scoffing sound. Her eyes raked over Steve’s body and her lip sneered. “Fine. If this is what it has to be, then like Russian winter, we will endure it. Go now.” She pushed Coulson on his shoulder. “I will continue this one’s instruction. Go. You have work to do, no?”</p>
<p>“I do, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Steve,” Coulson said, hesitating halfway out the door, “If you need anything, dial 5 on the house phone. It rings me directly. Day or night.” He paused a little longer, then patted the door and shut it behind him.</p>
<p>Steve was alone in a sort of sitting room with the First Lady of the Federated States. There was a fireplace (now cold, but clearly well-used and maintained) with two comfortable chairs turned toward the hearth. At the foot of one chair was a short stool, and underneath that, a thick, broad cushion. There were fresh flowers in tall vases on every flat surface, it seemed. A larger seating area was behind him; he remembered seeing it on his way in. He was too nervous to look around to confirm it, though. He just stared at the fireplace as the First Lady stared at him.</p>
<p>“You are Stevie, yes?”</p>
<p>“Steve, ma’am,” he said softly. Barely a moment later, the First Lady slapped him hard across the cheek. It was enough to turn his head, bring tears to his eyes, his fingers to his cheek to comfort the blow. He looked at the First Lady. Why had she done that?</p>
<p>“You are Stevie, yes?” she said again, her green eyes boring into his.</p>
<p>“Uh,” he stammered. “Um.” He saw her raise her right hand again. He did not want to get slapped again. “Yes?”</p>
<p>She lowered her hand. “Good. My husband, he does not care for boys in that way. He wants to be the only man, the Alpha. You understand this. I do not ask question. I tell you. You understand this. You are Stevie. That is a girl’s name. You are a girl. You are here to have babies, nothing more. There is nothing more for you. Understand, yes? Now you answer. That was a question.”</p>
<p>“…yes? Ma’am?”</p>
<p>She nodded firmly. “Now let me see you. Put down that silly backpack. Take off that hideous cloak. The color is good. I like you in blue. But not that cloak. I do not think Omegas should be hidden. They should be seen. Celebrated. In this, my husband and I agree.”</p>
<p>Steve dropped the backpack by his feet, then unclipped and slid the cloak from his narrow shoulders. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he held it in one hand by his side. He was acutely conscious of his skimpy bolero jacket, the traditional pants and the scrap of cloth that barely earned the right to be called a ‘panty,’ and the air conditioned chill of the room. It had become normal at the federal school to be this exposed. Here, in the White House, in this private residence above a large, bustling office, he expected he would have felt more appropriately dressed had he been wearing a swimsuit. It didn’t help the First Lady was wearing a tight dress, stockings and thick heels. She was well-covered up.</p>
<p>“Turn around,” she said, twirling one hand in the air. “Let me see your body.”</p>
<p>He turned slowly, giving himself the chance to see the rest of the lushly appointed room, the seating arrangements, the credenzas, the small tables and the gorgeous portraiture on each wall of former First Ladies, plus four more doors, one at each corner, each of them closed.</p>
<p>“Hm. You’ll do, I suppose. I hope you can follow instruction. There are simple rules you must obey. Consequences for disobeying will be immediate and unpleasant for you. First, you will never look me in eye. I look at you. You do not look at me.”</p>
<p>Steve immediately looked down at the carpet beneath his feet.</p>
<p>“When I enter room, you stand up, you face me, you act respectful, you do not look at me. I will not be sullied by your gaze.”</p>
<p>Steve wasn’t sure how his gaze could sully anything, but he nodded anyway.</p>
<p>“You speak to me only if I require it. Otherwise, you are mute. Like a doll. You do what I tell you to do as soon as I tell you to do it. There are no questions. My instructions will always be clear and concise. If you fail in them, there will be consequences. I have many ways to punish you that will not damage you. There is the bastinado. There is the spiked paddle. I have many things. Many ways. Do not test me.”</p>
<p>He didn’t know if he should nod or shake his head. He remained still.</p>
<p>“You will remain out of sight until you are called for. You will produce offspring and that will be the end of it. Baby leaves your belly and it becomes mine. I am Mama. I am the mother. You will be no one. You will never be his wife. You will never replace me. Do not even try.”</p>
<p>He almost looked up. He almost reacted. They were going to take any children away from him? As the Omega being brought in to provide children for an Alpha-Beta marriage, he knew his expected role. Traditionally, historically, in every religion, such an Omega would be a valued member of the household, included in family celebrations, given a place of honor at their child’s birthdays or wedding. It was considered the height of cruelty to deny an Omega their child.</p>
<p>But, maybe, he could go through with it. Maybe she was only scaring him. Maybe the future would be different than how it was being painted now. At any rate, he had no desire to be the president’s wife.</p>
<p>“You will refer to me, when you must, by my title. To my husband, you will be agreeable, pliable, willing and receptive. You will refer to him as ‘the president.’ There is no need to speak to him directly. He will say many things, but he will not be expecting reply. Not from you. Unless the answer is ‘yes’. Yes, you want him. Yes, he is handsome man. Yes, he is powerful man. You understand.”</p>
<p>Feed the president’s ego. He understood and wasn’t surprised.</p>
<p>“You will submit to him. You will play his little games. You will get on the breeding bench and you will get breeded. You understand.”</p>
<p>He almost – <em>almost – </em>opened his mouth to correct her grammar, but he held his tongue literally between his teeth. He nodded instead. He felt that boulder in his stomach again at the thought of a breeding bench. They were old-fashioned, something wealthy families used to have that Steve supposed were maybe coming back in favor. The school had one, and each student was required to practice bending over it gracefully, but it wasn’t considered a necessary skill. It certainly wasn’t one that Steve thought he had acquired.</p>
<p>They heard voices from outside the room, but not from the hallway. The First Lady said, “He’s here. Remember what I said. Agreeable. Pliant. Play his games.” Then she turned and smiled brightly as one of the doors in the corner of the room opened and Alexander Pierce, forty-fifth president of the United States, first president of the Federated States, stepped through.</p>
<p>“There they are, my lovelies!”</p>
<p>Pierce was shorter but still more imposing that Steve had heard he would be. He entered with a fresh cloud of Alpha pheromones that made Steve think of wealth, smoke, and, oddly, a marsh. He fought a trembling in his muscles as the First Lady scampered over to her husband and pulled his head down to hers for a lingering kiss.</p>
<p>“Oh, my love, I have missed you!” she cooed.</p>
<p>Pierce put a hand on her backside and slipped the other to cup her breast. “My sexy little Russka,” he cooed back at her, “have you been keeping yourself warm for me?”</p>
<p>She nodded. “I’m desperate for you!”</p>
<p>Steve kept his face pointed at the carpet but could not help himself. He glanced through his eyelashes toward them, getting a glimpse of a lushly appointed room through the doorway behind the president. The couple were wrapped up in each other. Pierce was openly fondling his wife. Steve felt out of place and naked and definitely awkward. Should he be witnessing this display? He didn’t think so.</p>
<p>Then Pierce broke off his exploration of his wife’s clavicle as if surprised to see someone else in the room. “And now introduce me, Natasha. Can this be our new arrival?”</p>
<p>“This is Stevie,” Natasha, the First Lady, replied. She lifted a hand toward Steve. “Isn’t she lovely? Slender and pretty, just like you requested.”</p>
<p>Steve watched as Pierce’s shoes, polished to a reflective shine, stepped closer to directly in front of him. Pierce’s hand, a little weathered, a little spotted with age, reached out and tipped Steve’s chin up. He tried not to look Pierce in the eye, but it was difficult with Pierce’s face so close.</p>
<p>Alexander Pierce had been handsome in a dreamy, somewhat rugged, way when he was younger. He was aging well enough, and still had most of his Alpha allure. He was a mature lion instead of a powerful young challenger to the throne. Still beautiful, still regal, but he definitely peaked years ago. He had the ‘Old Alpha’ smell that typically meant protection and care to a young Omega, and Steve found himself relaxing a little, daring to lift his eyes to Pierce’s.</p>
<p>“There she is,” Pierce said, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. “What big eyes you have! Nat, have you seen these eyes?”</p>
<p>Natasha had remained standing a little apart from them. “Yes. They’re blue.”</p>
<p>“They’re spectacular. Almost the exact shade mine are.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Natasha said. “You requested it.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t think anyone would find it.” He dropped Steve’s chin and ran his hands around Steve’s neck and shoulders, then down over Steve’s chest. “Tits are a little small,” Pierce said.</p>
<p>“A baby makes them…” Natasha mimed herself holding larger breasts.</p>
<p>Pierce laughed. “They won’t get that big,” he said, gesturing at her chest. He returned his focus to Steve, sliding his palms down to rest on Steve’s slender hips. His hands were dry and rough against Steve’s skin. Pierce’s thumbs stroked the softer part of Steve’s abdomen just next to his hip bones. He felt himself shiver. “I suppose these hips will do,” Pierce murmured. “Cute little cocklet, though.” Pierce tapped the panty where it pooched out from Steve’s body. “Look at it bounce. Bouncey-bouncey-bouncey.” He kept tapping at the pouch of fabric and grinning.</p>
<p>Steve was horrified, humiliated. No one had touched him like this – ever. Even the doctor during his examination hadn’t – hadn’t played with him like this. A deep sense of shame filled him as he felt his phallus, his ‘cocklet’ as Pierce had called it, swell with attention. He thought he might be getting slick, soaking the thin strip of fabric that ran snug up against his body, connecting on either side of his belt. Some instinct told him not to jerk his hips away, to stand and allow Pierce full access to his body – he was going to do what he was going to do anyway, why cry about it? He felt his eyes water and tried to force the tears back.</p>
<p>“Don’t play with it,” Natasha finally said. “You’re like little boy doing that. Bounce-bounce. It’s silly.”</p>
<p>Pierce laughed, but he did stop. “But I like it,” he said. “She’s getting slick. You can smell it.”</p>
<p>“I’m Beta. You know I am immune to these smells.”</p>
<p>“But you smell them.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes. But I’m not enslaved to them. This is why Betas superior. We not go into ruts. We not have heats. We are logical, sensible, at all times. This is why Betas should rule.”</p>
<p>Pierce stepped away as he laughed and pulled Natasha into his arms. “You’re so funny,” he said. “We should put you on late night instead of those unfunny jerks on the West Coast who are always making up lies and stories about me.”</p>
<p>“They are jealous,” Natasha said, lifting her hand to smooth his hair. “You are great man and they are jealous they cannot beat you.”</p>
<p>“You’re right.” Pierce kissed her on the forehead. “Now, get your girl in here to get Stevie set up. I want to break her in after dinner. Then we’ll watch the news.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Hi! I’m Angie. I’m Miss Natasha’s personal assistant, companion, go-fer, gal pal, whatever she needs. I got hired on just a couple weeks before they got married. Gosh, that was so romantic, wasn’t it? How he saw her at the ballet, fell in love. He just had to have her – knew she was the one. She was so smart about it. She didn’t chase him. She made him chase her. He took her on a trip to Boca and proposed on the beach at sunrise after an all-night party just for her.</p>
<p>Anyway. I’ve got my own room attached to the First Lady’s suite which is back that way. We’re going through here into the President’s Sitting Room, see? Very nice. Real Alpha sort of place. Those are all portraits of presidents, of course, but I don’t know which ones they are. Oh! That one’s Jackson. I think. I’m pretty sure. Anyway, the president’s bedroom is through here. Closet, bathroom, his bed. You’ll be seeing that again, I’m sure. Your room is through this door here.</p>
<p>Oh, no, there’s no lock. Why would you lock out your Alpha? I know it seems small, but everything in this room is for you. All the clothes, and there are a lot of clothes, traditional clothing doesn’t take up much room, does it, are for you. The jewelry, the shoes, the overcloaks, the… everything. Put your backpack down. You’ll have time to unpack later. Right now, the tour continues! Through this door is the access corridor so you don't have to always go through the president's bedroom to get anywhere. Look at all those windows! What a view. Your private bathroom is right next door.</p>
<p>They want you to bathe every day. And use the bidet. It’s pretty user-friendly. Be sure to wash up the butt even if you don’t poop. President Pierce is real particular about cleanliness. He’ll want you to be hairless as much as possible, too, so he had someone get you a whole gift basket of new shaving and waxing and sugaring stuff. Gels and creams and scrubs. Some bubble bath. Bath salts. Oh! A new sponge. That’s nice! There’s towels and things and someone will be in here every day to clean up, usually around noon.</p>
<p>Most of the day you’ll be on your own. I go everywhere Miss Natasha goes. That’s charity lunches, garden parties, matinee performances of the ballet, shopping. Over here’s the private library. Feel free to read anything you find. Down this way is the small kitchen. Here’s the family dining room and their living room. You’re allowed free reign of every room on this floor, of course, except the First Lady’s. Unless she invites you in herself.</p>
<p>There’s a family dinner once a month with all the kids. You’ll be expected to attend. President Pierce holds to tradition, so you’ll be eating off his plate. You know how that works? Great! You’ll be doing that at any state events you attend, as well. But don’t worry. You won’t have to attend many, and I’ll be there for those, too. What’s that? Oh, no, I’m not a member of the family. I don’t go to the family dinners.</p>
<p>Let’s see. The Pierces get invited to parties and events about 4 or 5 nights a week. They’re very popular and Congress is in session so all the senators and lobbyists are in town. I know there’s a war on, but the nation’s work must still be done! That’s what the president says all the time, anyway.</p>
<p>What else, what else. Oh. When you’re not eating with them or at an event, you’ll be having dinner with me. I eat in the kitchen. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to again. I’ll be controlling your calendar. I’ll also be letting you know about proper dress for the different events, what colors to wear so you don’t clash with Miss Natasha. That sort of thing. You should know that Miss Natasha does not like Omegas who step out of line. She’s very strict about that. The others, well… I’m sure you won’t make those mistakes.</p>
<p>Like what? Well, you’re not a complete fool or some ego-filled jerk. You’re not going to try and undermine Miss Natasha or get upset if the president doesn’t give you any diamonds or gold every time he, you know, <em>breeds</em> you. He’ll take them back, you know. Those are only loans. He’ll say they’re for you always, but don’t get attached.</p>
<p>There were three others. The first one couldn’t stop crying, no matter what the doctors did. Oh, I almost forgot, your doctor will be seeing you in the medical suite downstairs tomorrow first thing. You know there’s a full medical office downstairs? If you get lucky, you’ll be having your baby here. Won’t that be wonderful? </p>
<p>Right. Well, the second Omega they had told lies about Miss Natasha. Claimed she was a spy. Ridiculous! The last one just got greedy. Don’t do any of those things and you should be fine. Just get pregnant as fast as you can. That will make everyone really happy. Oh, wow, I really want to take care of a baby.</p>
<p>What happened to the other Omegas? I’m not sure. They just got, um, punished and taken away. But I’m sure you don’t have to worry about – oh. Well, they were fine when I saw them leaving. Just, you know, in full restraints so they wouldn’t hurt themselves and then removed from the premises. I didn’t ask what happened to them. Some things I’ve learned not to ask about.</p>
<p>Me? Oh, no, I’m almost 26. Hardly suitable. Anyway, I’m much more useful to Miss Natasha this way. And I’m helping her with her English. It’s so much better than it used to be. And I got oodles of charm, everyone says so. Why, it’s because of me that she’s so friendly with the English ambassador, Peggy. That is, Ms. Margaret Carter. They didn’t start off as friends, but by the end, we were all in the Miss Peggy’s bubble bath drinking champagne and telling naughty stories!</p>
<p>Yes. I love living here. You’ll like it, too. Gosh, Stevie, we’re going to be such good friends!</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>That first night, Steve had dinner with Angie at the small table in the private kitchen on the other side of the house. The upstairs kitchen staff mostly ignored them as they bustled about preparing and serving their meal. “They can make whatever you want,” Angie said. “But usually, I just get whatever’s easiest on the staff. Most times, it’s leftovers from lunch or a helping of whatever they’re having downstairs if there’s any kind of event and I’m not needed there already.”</p>
<p>Steve, his stomach a bundle of nerves, ate less than the chef’s efforts deserved. He was already dressed in an outfit of scarlet. He thought he looked kind of special and nice when he checked himself out on the full-length mirror in the bathroom, but then he’d found Angie in the main hall and she showed him to the kitchen and he felt practically naked. Angie’s evening clothes were a modified version of the one Steve wore. She had a larger bolero jacket fastened over a kind of Beta-style brassiere. Her trousers were loose and soft, like Steve’s, but they were modern, like any Beta or Alpha might wear, and didn’t reveal her underwear. Her skin wasn’t unduly exposed. Even her sandals were sturdier, with straps around her ankles. He realized the clothing she’d been wearing that afternoon had also been on the modest, practical side. He tried not to focus on the obvious double standard.</p>
<p>Of course, she had the night off, since Miss Natasha was going to be present at Steve’s breaking-in.</p>
<p>“Now, Stevie,” Angie said, after they’d cleared their little table and paid respects to the kitchen staff, “it’s normal to be nervous, but know that this is something every Omega has to go through. That first time can be scary, but it’s not forever, you know? It’s all temporary. It all ends. It’ll all be over and then you’ll go back to your room, get some sleep, and tell me all about it at breakfast in the morning.” She hugged him, kissed his temple, then pushed him down the main hall toward the president’s private salon.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, Steve walked up to the door, ignoring the Secret Service guards stationed outside it like they ignored him, and knocked. He heard a voice say something indistinct. He hesitated, then decided it didn’t matter; he was expected. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, took a second deep breath and entered.</p>
<p>The president’s salon was a mirror image of the First Lady’s, except where she had flowers and soft colors, he had sculptures of cowboys on horseback, leather and wood. The portraits of US presidents stared down into the room, white-haired and remote. The First Lady herself was there, sitting on one of the leather-bound chairs facing the fireplace. She wore a sedate but form-fitting dark blue dress while Pierce had taken off his suit coat at some point. He had his white shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Miss Natasha and Pierce, who stood next to her, were drinking what looked like whisky and smoking what definitely smelled like cigars. A fire crackled steadily, throwing off heat and most of the light for the room. In the far corner, a small lamp burned, and that was it for illumination. Steve shut the door behind him, looked down and realized his toes just breached the edge of the firelight on the carpet.</p>
<p>“There she is,” Miss Natasha crooned and crossed one leg over the other, displaying a high heeled shoe with a jeweled strap across the top of her foot. “Enjoyed your food and now you’re here to perform your duty.” She stubbed out her cigar into a glittery gold ashtray.</p>
<p>Steve almost responded but remembered his lesson. He kept his mouth shut. She seemed to approve of his silence. Pierce didn’t seem to notice either way. He puffed the last of his cigar and tossed the end of it into the fireplace.</p>
<p>“Look at her. Red. Nice choice,” Pierce said, his voice thick and slow. He rubbed at his crotch through his suit pants. “Shows off her skin. She’s got great skin. So white, so pure.”</p>
<p>Steve had the distinct feeling that the ‘white’ and ‘pure’ comments were Pierce saying the quiet part out loud. He didn’t normally feel ashamed of his Irish ancestry, and there wasn’t a reason for him to be, but right this moment, he felt objectified, singled out, and dehumanized for it.</p>
<p>“All right, love,” Miss Natasha said, bumping the back of her hand against her husband’s. “You can go play now. I let you. I want to see you enjoy yourself.”</p>
<p>Pierce smiled without displaying any teeth. “Come on, then,” he said. “Get yourself over here and let’s see what we got to work with.” He sat down on his leather chair and then patted his lap. “Come here, Stevie.”</p>
<p>Steve found himself moving forward and climbing unsteadily onto Pierce’s lap, facing Natasha. Pierce adjusted him so that Steve’s butt was wedged between his thigh and the armrest of the chair. Steve felt overwhelmed by the scent of cigar smoke, which was almost enough to cover over the underlying odor of marsh. Pierce grabbed Steve’s left arm and pulled it around his shoulders. Steve’s muscles trembled and he found it difficult to touch the president. It seemed disrespectful even though Pierce had moved Steve’s hand there himself.</p>
<p>“Like this,” Pierce said, his voice husky, “always sit like this.” He lifted his left hand and began touching and stroking along Steve’s right shoulder and the side of his neck. “Lovely long lines,” Pierce said idly. “Like a racehorse.”</p>
<p>“Small, though.”</p>
<p>“Compact. A compact little filly.” He stroked from behind Steve’s ear down his throat to the divot between his collarbones. It almost tickled. “Hm. A little ruby would go real nice right there. Or a big ruby. Remember that. Would you like a ruby, Stevie?” Pierce’s right arm pulled tight around Steve’s waist and tugged his hips closer. “You look good in red. I like you in red. In the fire. Like an angel.”</p>
<p>Steve was keeping his head down. He didn’t want to look at either one of them in the face. He didn’t want to even acknowledge this was happening to him. He’d kind of figured Pierce would throw him over a breeding bench and be done with it. What was all this – foreplay?</p>
<p>Then Pierce’s face was close to his and he tried so hard not to flinch away, not to betray his nerves, not to insult but to obey. He thought wildly, what if he were to leap off the president’s lap, run out into the hallway, down the stairs – but no, he’d be caught by the soldiers outside or, even more humiliatingly, by the president himself and be dragged back here anyway. Maybe he’d end up like that first Omega, the one who cried all the time and was, what, sent away? Maybe worse? At the federal school they kept insisting that disobeying a rule was the same as breaking the law. It had to be worse if it were the president. Would it be treasonous? Wouldn’t President Pierce consider it treasonous? So much else had been.</p>
<p>Still, Pierce’s face was pressed close and Pierce’s lips and tongue were moving over Steve’s neck and then up behind Steve’s ear. He began nibbling at Steve’s earlobe and along his jugular all the while stroking one hand along Steve’s carotid and using the other to squeeze Steve’s hip. Steve was almost too paralyzed to even think. His right arm flapped a little in the air. He didn’t want to drop his arm and appear disinterested and he didn’t want to touch Pierce because what if that were considered disrespectful so he finally let his arm hang, uselessly, like all of him was useless.</p>
<p>And Pierce kept nuzzling and stroking Steve’s neck and then Steve smelled a new fragrance in the air. It was something heavy and seductive and he felt his muscles begin to relax. He decided that, since Pierce wanted him there, Pierce wanted Steve’s hand on his shoulder. He let his arm drape loosely across his shoulders.</p>
<p>“There it is,” Pierce whispered. “Ease up. Your body knows what to do.”</p>
<p>Steve felt something give a little deep inside, loosen a little further, and he realized abruptly that, for all intents and purposes, he was sitting bare-assed on the President of the Federated States of America’s lap save for the thin strip of a barely-absorbent thong. He was quite possibly going to leave a stain on the man’s pants. Humiliation deepened inside him even as a slow wave of warmth flooded him. He felt his head tip backward as Pierce pushed against his shoulder.</p>
<p>“That’s it,” Pierce said. “Give it up for me. Give it up for your Alpha.”</p>
<p>Steve’s spine bent to rest against Pierce’s arm, a hot band against Steve’s back. He felt Pierce’s hand fiddling, moving, between his shoulder blades and the red bandeau stretched tight and then sprung loose. Pierce grabbed it with his other hand and pulled it away. “Oh!” Steve couldn’t help but gasp. His upper body was completely bared to Pierce’s – and Natasha’s – gaze. He stared up into the darkness of the room, ignoring his own blush, the firelight making the shadows dance and flicker like silent birds in an aviary.</p>
<p>High on the walls, the former presidents stared down at him, somber and silent.</p>
<p>Pierce’s hand was large and hot and it covered Steve’s right breast, squeezed the flesh and then pulled cruelly at the nipple. Steve yelped, then closed his mouth. He didn’t want to make noise. He didn’t want to be noticed during this, which was crazy, he knew, it was happening to him, they all knew it. They were all witnesses to this thing being done to his body.</p>
<p>But Pierce didn’t care. He had his wet mouth, tongue and lips sealed over Steve’s left nipple and he suckled it hard until the nipple was puckered tight and Steve didn’t know if he wanted it to continue or if he wanted to die. Pierce pulled back a little and plucked at Steve’s nipples, right and then left, experimenting with tension and movement.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Natasha, dear? I think she likes this.”</p>
<p>“She’s not doing much,” Natasha said. “Do you want her to do more?”</p>
<p>“She’ll learn,” Pierce said. “She’ll learn how to please me. Not everyone can be a natural like you are.”</p>
<p>“Flatterer,” Natasha purred.</p>
<p>Steve’s head was spinning. The heavy, seductive scent was still there in the room. He let his mouth fall open and realized his legs were now being stroked by Pierce’s hands. His right pant leg was being pulled off, it was sliding over his knee and then it was caught on his foot. Steve kicked a little, hoping to catch the fabric more securely, but then it and his shoe fell off. Pierce’s hand was heavy and hot on Steve’s thigh. He felt Pierce push his thighs apart and then his hand closed over Steve’s phallus, straining now in its silk pouch.</p>
<p>“That’s it,” Pierce said. “Almost there. Let’s get you out of the rest of your clothes.” He pushed Steve onto his feet and swiftly unhooked the other pant leg. Steve stood there, in front of the fire, in only one sandal and his panty, in front of Pierce and Natasha, and felt slick running down the inside of his thigh. He thought he should care, but something had dulled inside him, something had gone fuzzy in his head.</p>
<p>Pierce stood up right behind Steve. The Alpha towered over him. His hands were heavy on Steve’s shoulders. Natasha’s gaze was unblinking and direct. Steve hoped she didn’t catch him staring in her direction. He really wasn’t seeing much of anything or, rather, nothing was really registering in his brain. He’d never felt so out of it. Then Pierce gave his backside a little push.</p>
<p>“Go on now, little one,” Pierce said. “You’ve seen these before. You know what to do.”</p>
<p>The presidential breeding bench stood in the corner of the room, just beyond the firelight. As he approached, Steve felt the trembling return to his muscles. For a moment, as he stared at the heavy wooden structure, he couldn’t quite think how to get on it. At the federal school, they practiced with simpler benches that stood on the floor and mostly, the Omegas were just bent over it. This one seemed to be on a pedestal and there were a lot more handles and bars.</p>
<p>“Up you go,” Pierce said, urging Steve with a hand on his bare backside again. He guided Steve onto the podium and then Steve saw how he was meant to fit into the structure. There were two leather-covered cushioned supports for his knees and an adjustable leather-covered padded crossbar for his hips. He fit his right knee into place and then his left, balancing with his hands against the crossbar. His breasts felt full and heavy, the nipples still puckered and glistening with Pierce’s spit. He heard Pierce say something to Natasha as he stepped up onto the podium behind him, pressing close. Then one hot hand laid against his back and he was pushed inexorably forward, bent over the crossbar until his head hung downward and his hands found a set of rounded handles on the main supports to grab onto.</p>
<p>Natasha had gotten up from her chair. She stood in front of Steve. Because of the height of the bench and of her heels, Steve’s head was just about the level with her waist. He felt her hand in his hair, her nails scratching his scalp. It almost felt good. Then Pierce unhooked Steve’s panty. He had to peel it away from Steve’s slick folds. Steve didn’t want to want Pierce. He didn’t want to be in this position except somehow his body seemed to want it very much. It felt like his hole was gaping open, like it was a mouth desperate for food, aching for attention. His phallus was hard, nudging now against the leather-covered crossbar. There was a rustling of fabric. Natasha’s fingernails dug into Steve’s scalp as she grabbed a hank of his hair. Then Steve felt something pour over his bare ass and drip down between his cheeks to coat his aching, hungry little mouth.</p>
<p>And then something else pushed at him. Something hard and unyielding and insistent pushed and pushed and Steve realized that Pierce’s hands had firm grips on his buttocks and were pulling and squeezing his flesh so that meant this was Pierce’s cock pushing at him, prodding at him, searching for the opening into him.</p>
<p>“There we go,” Pierce was saying, “let me in, let me in, you want this, you want it, let me have it.”</p>
<p>Steve kept floating into and out of full awareness. He didn’t know which he wanted. Did he want to remember every detail of this moment, the moment he lost his virginity? Or did he want to forget this in a fuzzy blaze of bliss? Maybe if he succumbed to the fog, it wouldn’t feel so humiliating. If he embraced this, if he ‘played Pierce’s little game,’ maybe he could still hold his head high and meet Angie’s face over the breakfast table in the morning.</p>
<p>Pierce readjusted his grip on Steve’s ass, pulling it more firmly into the position he preferred, then stabbed his cock into Steve’s body a few inches, then a couple more, and then he pulled out and shoved back in hard and Steve felt the air leave his lungs. He’d never expected – no one had told him – no one had prepared him – this feeling of being invaded, of being taken over. It was overwhelming and Steve wasn’t sure he liked it at all. But Pierce kept pulling out and sliding back in, his hands still gripping Steve’s ass, then slapping one cheek and then the other, startling Steve and making his whole body jerk and tense.</p>
<p>Natasha’s grip in Steve’s hair eased and she scratched at his scalp again. She held his head in her hands and leaned down to put her face next to his ear. She whispered, barely audible, “Play his game, little one. You can be coy or shy but do not fight him. He does not like to feel like a monster. He might not kiss you. Do not try to kiss him. Understand?”</p>
<p>Steve tried to nod his head. Pierce was shoving harder into him now, though, so maybe she wasn’t able to tell if he were intentionally nodding or just reacting to the repeated thrusting. In any event, she let go of him, running one hand up Steve’s back toward Pierce, who reached for her hand and clasped it against Steve’s hip.</p>
<p>“I like her,” Pierce said, panting hard, almost wheezing. “She’s tight. So sweet. And this ass is perfect. I want to spank her raw. I want to hear her cry. I’m going to ruin this one with my cock, my big Alpha cock, I’m going to split her cunt open with my knot and she’s going to be mine. My slut. My Omega slut.”</p>
<p>“Breed,” Natasha cooed. “Breed and give me my baby.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Natashenskaya! Yes! Yes!” Pierce’s cries grew higher in pitch and he shuddered and shoved one last time into Steve and Steve thought it was all done but then he realized he’d forgotten about the knot. Pierce’s knot began to inflate just inside the rim of Steve’s swollen opening. Pierce’s hands gripped Steve’s hips tight as his knot kept swelling and swelling until, with a sharp cry, Steve felt something extra give way. “There it is!” Pierce cried out, beginning his ejaculation. “Oh, god, I love breaking in virgins. Take it, take it. You’ve never felt this before.” He leaned forward over Steve’s back, covering him. “I will always be your first fuck. No matter where you go in life, the first cock inside you was mine. The first knot you took was mine.”</p>
<p>Steve panicked for a moment. What had just happened back there? What was that little extra bit, that snapping bit of pain? He knew there was a visible sign that an Omega had taken a knot, but no one had ever been able to explain to him what that sign was. His mother had always assured him she’d tell him when the time came, but she’d died first. The federal school certainly didn’t cover reproduction, despite having them practice bending over a breeding bench. He wondered if he were damaged now, if it were irreparable, if any future Alpha would notice and care and, maybe, be repulsed by whatever had happened to him. He shifted his grip on the handles. Blood was racing to his head and he felt a little woozy from it. Pierce stood back upright, still tied to Steve, still pumping semen into him. He shifted his knot a little and Steve had to squirm because it still felt so huge and so awkward and what if he was torn? What if he just wasn’t built to take something this large?</p>
<p>“Such a good girl,” Pierce said, stroking Steve’s back a little. “Won’t be long now.”</p>
<p>Natasha still stood there, close to Steve, her hand resting on Steve’s back. “Does she feel good? Is her pussy sweet?”</p>
<p>“It’s good,” Pierce said, shifting around a bit more. “Her cunt is squeezing my knot. It’s nice. Good girl,” he said again, petting Steve’s hips.</p>
<p>Natasha and Pierce began talking about something else Steve didn’t pay attention to. Instead, he became aware of how big Pierce’s knot was, and how strong his cock felt, how hard and how masculine and how thick. Pierce was the president. He was a powerful man. He could do anything he wanted. He was doing anything he wanted. He was the leader of the free world. He was older, sure, but he was still very handsome, very Alpha. And he’d been kind to Steve, working him up, getting him used to the idea. He didn’t just throw Steve onto the breeding bench and go from there. No, he was kind. He touched Steve gently. Pierce was a gentle man. He was a good catch. Steve was in a good place. Being pinned by this Alpha’s knot, bent over a breeding bench that, to be honest, couldn’t have been more comfortable, having this Alpha’s semen pumped into his womb to create a baby, well. Steve couldn’t ask for better. He’d bet that his mother would be proud of him and the other Omegas at the school? Envious, too.</p>
<p>Steve wondered how he looked up there, on this heavy, well-crafted breeding bench, a well-crafted Alpha knot splitting him open, breeding him, making him into something important, something worthy. Then he felt the knot slide around more, pump into and out of him a little more, and he realized the knot was subsiding. He felt vaguely disappointed, like maybe he was missing something. But, no, Pierce was pulling back, adjusting his clothing, stepping off the bench and joining his wife again on the chairs in front of the fire.</p>
<p>“When you’re ready, Stevie, come back here to sit by me,” Pierce said several minutes later. He didn’t seem upset. Natasha didn’t even look at him. Steve found that the desire to stand up again came back slowly. Being in this dark corner helped. He felt a rush of fluid pulse out of his hole and clenched to keep it in. He put a hand over his cocklet and was startled to realize he was still hard. Curious, he ran a hand over the bench, but it was dry. It was warm, but dry. He felt a strange sort of embroidery or pattern on the leather covering, but in the semi-darkness, he couldn’t make out what it was. He turned and carefully stepped off the podium.</p>
<p>Pierce had placed a wide, flat pillow by his feet. With a gesture, he indicated where Steve should sit. Steve slumped onto his knees and fell sideways into Pierce’s legs, his head resting easily on Pierce’s knee. He sat there, staring into the firelight, while Pierce and Natasha resumed their quiet conversation over the rest of their whisky.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t know how much time passed when there was a knock on the hall door. He just knew he felt peaceful and content, naked but warm in front of the fire, uncaring about the slick still seeping from his hole or his cocklet that remained stretched and poking out in front of his body.</p>
<p>Pierce called out and the hall door opened. A man entered and began to speak softly and respectfully. It took Steve another moment to realize it was Coulson. He looked up at Coulson, backlit by the fire, and wondered if Coulson understood that Steve belonged to Pierce completely.</p>
<p>“…so you see, sir,” Coulson was saying, “the press will want a response. I’ve taken the liberty of writing a statement, if you’d like to use that as a starting point.”</p>
<p>“What does it say?”</p>
<p>“That you are dismayed by the casualties but know these men died as heroes for the FSA. They’ll be remembered in your prayers. You promise swift retribution. The usual.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” Pierce said. He laid a heavy hand on Steve’s head. “What were they really doing there?”</p>
<p>“Near as we can tell,” Coulson said, “these men had a sort of fight club, only they were the ones organizing it, not the ones fighting in it. They’d been taking bets on the winners. The fighters were homeless, derelicts. We think they were infiltrated by antifa supporters and traitors, which is why they caught our soldiers by surprise.”</p>
<p>“And the money?”</p>
<p>“Oh, from the bets?” Coulson checked his notes. “It looks to be upward of two million dollars. It’s been confiscated by the Toledo Police Department.”</p>
<p>Pierce tapped his fingers on Steve’s head. “Make sure they spend it,” Pierce said. “Make them buy military surplus. They could use a few more tanks.”</p>
<p>“They’re not anywhere near fighting, sir – “</p>
<p>“Everyone wants more tanks. What else do you have?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Coulson said. “Fighting in Memphis was quiet for the last few weeks, but we think that’s because they were waiting on reinforcements which we confirmed just arrived from the US stronghold in Little Rock. Skirmishes broke out this afternoon. Negligible casualties on both sides.”</p>
<p>“Fine.”</p>
<p>Coulson tucked his tablet under his arm. “That was it, sir. If there’s anything more tonight, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning. Ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Coulson,” Natasha said suddenly. “You haven’t commented on little Stevie here. She’s just been, um, speared. Is that the English word? Whatever. What do you think?”</p>
<p>Steve let his eyes lift to meet Coulson’s frank appraisal. He let his chest expand, pulled his shoulders back and spread his thighs a little to let his cocklet dangle in the light. He felt slick cooling on his pudenda.</p>
<p>Coulson smiled. “She’s lovely, sir. I trust she provided an excellent ride.”</p>
<p>“The first fuck is always sweet,” Pierce said. “But I’ll probably plow her a few more times tonight. Get that seed planted in some fertile soil.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. If there’s nothing else, sir?”</p>
<p>Steve let his thoughts drift as Coulson left. Natasha and Pierce were quiet for a while, then they began speaking again, about the fighting in Toledo and the returning threat in Memphis. She said something about Orlando and he made a joke about Disney World. They discussed a blockade and something about Texas and an upcoming summit in New Orleans.</p>
<p>Steve continued to drift. He felt his legs begin to fall asleep so he shifted position. He curled one hand around Pierce’s ankle and resettled his head against Pierce’s knee. The fire was lower, burning out. Natasha crouched and poked at the logs with a set of tongs. Sparks shot out and flew up the chimney. She turned and looked at Steve. “You can go, Stevie,” she said. “The servants will clean up your mess.”</p>
<p>That was kind of her to say, he thought. He nodded and sat upright, stretching a little. He glanced up and saw that Pierce had dozed off in the chair. Steve got to his feet, careful to be quiet. He gathered his discarded clothes and shoes and carried them through the door to the president’s bedroom and thus, to his own chamber, completely at ease with his nudity. No one saw him.</p>
<p>He brushed his teeth and washed his face in the bathroom, then hurried back to get into bed. He tossed a few times, frustrated, because his phallus just wouldn’t settle down. He’d been at least half-hard since Pierce started touching him and it hadn’t abated. There was only one solution he could think of, one he realized he’d been forbidden to employ since arriving the federal school. Hoping he could trust that no one would just walk in on him, Steve rolled onto his back and began frantically pulling at his phallus while one hand slipped into his hole.</p>
<p>“Oh, god,” he moaned as quietly as he could, instantly excited once more. His fingers coated in a fresh gush of slick, he masturbated frantically with more abandon than he’d ever managed before. He jammed four fingers into himself while he rubbed his straining cocklet. Oh, please, he thought desperately, please, let me come. He spread his legs wider and imagined Pierce above him, cock thrusting into him again, the knot swelling once more, his pleased expression looking down at Steve. <em>That’s my girl,</em> he said, and Steve came.</p>
<p>When he was finished, he rolled onto his side, his hand still cradling his phallus. “Shit,” he said. He really didn’t want to be anyone’s girl.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Settling In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve gets into a routine.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the morning, he delivered an edited version of the evening’s events to Angie. She rubbed his shoulder. “I’m so glad it went well for you. I’ve heard stories of him going all night, when he was younger. Just wearing out one Omega after another.”</p>
<p>“Well, it wasn’t that bad.” He sipped his coffee and attempted a smile.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The very next night, Coulson informed Steve after breakfast, he would be attending a private party that the president hosted for his family, friends, and closest advisors. Steve would attend and be shown off, Coulson said, nothing more.</p>
<p>The Surgeon-General himself, Dr. Andrew Miller, had arranged that morning to go over Steve’s medical charts. He’d arrived in his full uniform, but then removed the outer jacket to perform the examination in the medical suite in the first level basement. Pierce was present through the whole thing.</p>
<p>“Did I wreck her?” he kept asking. “I plowed her good last night. I felt her hole tear.”</p>
<p>Dr. Miller, who hadn’t actually introduced himself nor spoken directly to Steve yet, just pulled out a speculum. “We’ll see, sir, but I doubt it. Omegas are built to give birth. No one’s knot is bigger than a baby’s head.”</p>
<p>“They haven’t seen mine,” Pierce said. “I’ve got the biggest knot.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Dr. Miller replied.</p>
<p>Steve was on his back on the exam table, his feet in the stirrups, a Beta nurse beside him with her hand on his shoulder, presumably to keep him calm. Dr. Miller, seated on a rolling stool, inserted the ice-cold speculum into Steve’s body and began cranking it open. Steve tried not to react. He just held his breath as he felt Miller poke around his interior walls with some sort of metal implement. He didn’t really feel the device, just the pressure from where the doctor pushed and prodded.</p>
<p>“See this?” Miller said to Pierce. “This is the remains of the virginal seal. It splits the first time a knot is introduced to the birth canal. That’s how we know he’s no longer a virgin.”</p>
<p>“She.”</p>
<p>“What’s that?”</p>
<p>“All Omegas are girls. Executive Order number 897.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course, right. That’s taking some time to get used to,” Miller said. “Anyway, you haven’t broken ‘her.’ This is normal. As ‘she’ takes more knots, ‘she’ will lose the rest of that skin and gain elasticity. There may be some more bleeding, but it will be minor compared to what it was last night.”</p>
<p>“Oh, she bled, all right,” Pierce said easily. “My dick was a crime scene.”</p>
<p>Miller forced a chuckle. “Yes, sir. Of course. I’ll have the results of the blood test in a few minutes.”</p>
<p>It turned out Steve was not pregnant (yet). Miller gave him an initial supply of testing sticks to pee on going forward. Due to his internal structure as an Omega, Steve’s body could register pregnancy as soon as twenty-four hours after an egg was fertilized, so he would need to check often. Miller also referred Steve’s future care to an O-OB/GYN specialist to ensure a healthy pregnancy and birth.</p>
<p>After, while Miller and Pierce shared a laugh in the outer office, the nurse handed Steve a quart-sized bottle of medication with a measuring cup sealed over the cap. “Thirty minutes before any of the president’s parties, you’re going to swallow two ounces of this pink stuff. Don’t eat or drink anything else for at least an hour before for full effect. Keep at room temperature. Got it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said. It seemed simple enough.</p>
<p>“Good,” she said. She glanced to one side before leaning closer to him. In a low voice, she said, “Don’t worry. Every Alpha employed by the president has to have gone through a full medical workup. The president doesn’t want any surprises and, as you might expect, no one wants to be the guy who caused the president to get syphilis, am I right?” She clapped him on the shoulder, then turned and walked away.</p>
<p>Steve stood there a long moment, feeling blank. “Wait, what?” he asked no one. “Syphilis?”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The shot glass of pink liquid turned out to be the best thing anyone had done for him in years, Steve decided about ten minutes after downing a full dose. He felt loopy and free and giggly and decidedly drunk, which wasn’t something that he’d had much experience with in the past, what with alcohol being prohibited for Omegas in general and too pricy for his mother’s budget. But if it was prescribed for him, who was going to say it was wrong?</p>
<p>Angie helpfully informed Steve that he was to wear royal blue per the First Lady’s instructions, as well as specific jewelry. She helped Steve dress into his traditional-style clothes, fastening wide gold bracelets around his wrists and matching bands around his ankles. Then she opened a small metal case and withdrew a preloaded syringe. She held the thin glass tube up to the light, then abruptly knelt behind Steve while she swabbed him with an alcohol wipe. He yelped after she managed to plunge the syringe into the meaty part of his exposed butt cheek, held it there a moment, then pulled out the needle. She tossed the syringe into a plastic biohazard bag before pulling a cloak up over his shoulders. She took a moment to adjust the way the hood fell around his face.</p>
<p>“What did you give me?” His butt cheek felt a little numb.</p>
<p>“Don’t think about it,” Angie said with a grin. “Trust me. It’ll go better for you with it than without it. Relax,” she added. “You’ll be thanking me in about ten minutes. You won’t question it next time.”</p>
<p>Horrified, Steve asked in a whisper, “Is this addictive? Is this, like, heroin or something?”</p>
<p>Angie giggled. “No, you goose! It’s, like, Omega-strength Rohypnol. It’ll wear off by tomorrow morning. Now get in there before you’re late.” She gestured at the door connecting to Pierce’s bedroom.</p>
<p>Mentally cursing, Steve took several deep breaths before pushing through the connecting door to find a whirl of people, color, fabric and noise in Pierce’s bedroom.</p>
<p>“There she is,” Pierce called out. He was in the middle of the room, half-dressed in a fancy suit. His older son stood next to him while the younger one, the blond one, lay across the bed.</p>
<p>The president’s daughter walked out of the closet carrying a pair of shoes. Tall, blonde, very thin, she’d famously had work done as a teenager and then made a living as a model for two years. Now she was married to a managing partner of a hedge fund. “Wear these, Daddy,” she said. “They’re imported leather. Very classy.”</p>
<p>“Come here, sweetie,” Pierce said, looking at Steve. “Meet my family.” Steve moved numbly to stand at Pierce’s side. When would that drug start to take effect? “This is Junior, the one who doesn’t look like me. That’s Ivan, the blond one, and this is my precious sweetie, Erica. Isn’t she beautiful?”</p>
<p>Steve smiled but said nothing. What was this drug? What was it going to do to him? When would he know it was working? What would it actually do? Pierce didn’t seem to notice his internal panic. “Give me those shoes, muffin. Is it time yet? Is everyone here already?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Daddy,” Erica said, kneeling at Pierce’s feet to help him slip the shoes on his feet. “Coulson’s P.A. texted me a few minutes ago. They’re ready whenever you are.”</p>
<p>“Then let’s go.”</p>
<p>“Finally!” Ivan rolled off the bed and got to his feet. He stared hard at Steve who found it difficult to shift his eyes away even though he was being rude. Ivan just looked up and down Steve’s body, then sneered a little. “Come on, AJ,” he said. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>“Have a good time, Daddy,” Erica said, leaning up to kiss her father on the lips.</p>
<p>Pierce patted her backside. “Have a good time with Jarrod,” he replied. “Tell him I said not to wear you out. That’s what that Omega’s for.”</p>
<p>Erica laughed. “Oh, Daddy, you’re so bad!” She picked up her purse and left the bedroom.</p>
<p>It was silent after she left. Pierce looked at his sons, his expression solemn. “Well? Go on then. Haven’t got all day.”</p>
<p>Junior and Ivan looked at each other, then Junior shrugged and opened the bedroom door for Ivan to pass through. Pierce put his hand on the back of Steve’s hood-covered neck and used that to propel Steve into the hallway. They waited a moment for the brothers to take the lead, following them in procession to a room Steve hadn’t been in yet. A Beta smiled at them and opened the double doors. “Have a good time, Mr. President,” she said.</p>
<p>The brothers walked in and the president followed, pushing Steve slightly ahead of him. Steve saw a room crowded with Alphas, one or two in military uniform, standing about with drinks in their hands. He became acutely aware that there were no Betas nor any Omegas in this room other than himself. He swayed a little, a drunken feeling making the lights blur, and heard a roar of noise he wasn’t entirely sure was coming from anything in particular.</p>
<p>Pierce moved Steve to the center of the room. Steve stopped when he no longer felt Pierce’s hand on the back of his neck. Someone started making a speech. Steve felt warm everywhere all at once, like a sudden rush of blood to his skin that then pooled in his abdomen. Parts of him felt achy and tight.</p>
<p>There was another roar of noise. It meant nothing to Steve. His head tipped forward a little bit. He tried to focus on the floor in front of him. He thought there was a carpet and maybe some dress shoes? They sure were shiny. He had an odd thought about pressing the shiny leather of the shoes up between his legs, sliding the toe over his slick skin, pressing it into him – and then a rush of cooler air and everything got brighter: his cloak had been pulled off him.</p>
<p>He felt like maybe he could breathe a little.</p>
<p>Behind him, he heard Pierce’s instructions to ‘smile’ and ‘be polite,’ so he lifted his face and said, “Hi.”</p>
<p>A roomful of Alphas were all staring at him, their faces blurry. Steve got the impression of dark suits and pale faces before he felt Pierce’s hand on his neck once more. Pierce tugged him to one side and told him to sit on his lap. As he had been instructed before, he put his arm around Pierce’s neck. It felt easy to do, and natural to lean against Pierce’s shoulder. Pierce’s body was hot and he actually smelled pretty good.</p>
<p>Pierce slapped Steve’s ass with one big, warm hand. The impact felt right. It felt like approval. Steve let his feet swing a bit, back and forth. Pierce said something, but it wasn’t to Steve, so he ignored it. A moment later, he was aware of another Alpha standing very close to him, leaning over him, his face pale and eager. Steve felt the rush of air and the sound of sniffing that meant an Alpha was scenting him. Steve wanted to frown and tell him that it was rude to scent someone without their permission, but the Alpha had straightened up and was speaking to Pierce.</p>
<p>Pierce was rather attractive. Even the Alpha seemed to realize it, Steve thought, as he leaned in for a second sniff.</p>
<p>Oh, wait. That was someone else, wasn’t it? Didn’t the first one have white hair? This one’s hair was thick and curly and dark. And then another one was there, sniffing deep, and Steve was slowly becoming aware of these Alphas in a different way. They were all kind of attractive, weren’t they. They were all potent in their own way. Each would be a suitable match. More and more Alphas bent over him, leaning close, favoring Steve with a little bit of attention, because of course, they did. Steve was desirable. Steve was sexy.</p>
<p>Pierce’s hand gripped Steve’s ass tight as yet another pair of Alphas walked up. One was Coulson, Steve realized. He smiled. He kind of liked Coulson. He had looked at Steve’s nude body, but he hadn’t made any advances. Coulson was polite. The man next to Coulson, though, had blue eyes and thick, dark hair. He wore a well-made suit and stood with a proud bearing. When the Alpha in the suit leaned over Steve’s body and sniffed him, Steve happened to sniff him in return and got a whiff of something intensely attractive. It was a distinctively masculine scent that made him think of a log cabin and a roaring fire on a cold night. Steve wanted more of that scent, but the dark-haired man just stood back up and stepped back. Coulson leaned over Steve now, and while Coulson was polite about it, Steve was still more curious about his companion.</p>
<p>Coulson smelled like fresh 80# paper and a new box of colored pencils. Steve smiled and let his head roll a little on Pierce’s shoulder. The lights in this room were so strange. They seemed to move. They shifted and danced and Steve’s small breasts seemed to swell. They grew heavy, mostly right in the nipples, in his pink, tight nipples. He looked down his chest and saw them there, wet and gleaming in the shifting light. Then Pierce’s mouth was on his nipple, sucking and sucking and Steve gasped it felt so good. His other nipple hurt. He reached a hand up to rub at the hurting nipple but found Pierce’s hand there instead.</p>
<p>“Shh, shh,” Pierce was saying. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, please,” Steve gasped. He was surrounded by Alphas, surrounded by one Alpha. He felt a rush of slick make his thighs slippery. He shifted on Pierce’s lap and found that spreading his legs felt so much more comfortable than keeping them together. He was panting now, gasping for air. His head fell back and there was the suckling sensation again and when he lifted his hand to his own nipple, there wasn’t a hand there anymore.</p>
<p>The belt around his waist itched at his skin. Something else was happening but it didn’t matter. A moment later, he felt his cocklet bounce in the open air and then a hand, a long-fingered hand, dipped between his folds into his slippery hole, once, twice, and then the hand came up and curled around his cocklet. It was almost as good as when Steve did that himself when he was alone.</p>
<p>Steve writhed and gasped and then there was shouting, loud shouting and movement, sudden and violent movement. Pierce’s hands were hard and firm on Steve’s body, hot on Steve’s ass, hard inside Steve’s body. Steve lifted his head and saw an Alpha struggling in the grips of two other Alphas in metal masks of some strange design. Something important was happening. Pierce was saying something important. Steve needed to listen. Then Pierce’s hand moved inside Steve’s body again and Steve shuddered and writhed and felt the tension that had been pulling tighter and tighter inside him finally snap. His muscles pulled tight and then – everything released.</p>
<p>There was a rush of fluid from Steve’s body and with it went all of Steve’s energy. He slumped in Pierce’s lap as the man steadily stroked his hand from Steve’s breast to his thighs, over and over. Steve focused long enough to realize Pierce was saying, so softly, over and over, “Good girl, Stevie. Good girl. You showed them what they wanted to see and now I got what I wanted, too. Such a good girl. Oh, Stevie, we could remake this whole world, you and I.”</p>
<p>Steve couldn’t say later if he ended up on the breeding bench or not.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>In the days and weeks that followed, Steve’s life entered into a predictable routine. He woke up around seven, took a shower, failed his pregnancy test, and then joined Angie in the kitchen for breakfast. He politely chatted with the cooks, inquired after their families, then explored the White House until eleven, sometimes with and sometimes without Angie, depending on her own schedule with the First Lady. Steve would otherwise spend time reading in his room before having lunch by himself in the kitchens. The afternoons were spent reading or wandering the few areas on the family floor he was allowed into by himself, or ‘resting’ in his room. Then came dinner and after that, two or three times a week, was his attendance in Pierce’s sitting room, in front of the fire, with the First Lady and the leather-covered breeding bench. Three or four nights a month found Steve dressed up in a formal skirt and led downstairs to a ballroom full of Alphas and Betas in their finest clothing. Everyone would be glittering and gleaming, smiling and showing off, and Steve right next to Pierce the entire time. If Pierce sat down, Steve would kneel on a ready cushion at his feet. If Pierce moved about the room, Steve would stay within arm’s reach. Ready for supper? Steve and Pierce sat together in the Jefferson Chair.</p>
<p>The Jefferson Chair was a gorgeously made antique, lovingly maintained by the White House staff since 1805 when it had been presented to the sitting president by the People of France. It was the first Omega Chair in the United States and it had caused quite a stir among the fashionable elite. Omega chairs were not quite twice as wide as normal chairs, well cushioned, ornately carved. They were designed so that an Alpha could sit with his Omega at a normal dining table and not take up much more space than would a single place setting. This arrangement allowed the Alpha to feed his Omega off of one large, shared dinner plate more easily and comfortably. The chair was gifted from Jefferson to his presidential successors. When not in use, it was a featured stop for the general tours. Not every president used the Omega chair, of course, as not every presidential family included an Omega. Pierce preferred them, however, and had several available in every one of his properties along with a variety of breeding benches and floor pillows.</p>
<p>After feeding Steve, when a formal dinner was winding down or segueing into a dance or a performance, Pierce would often drag Steve into an alcove just meters away from leaders of industry and heads of state and bend him over one of the simpler breeding benches. He’d return to the party after, dragging a dizzy Steve along with him, and grin and grin and grin.</p>
<p>Six weeks in was the 4<sup>th</sup> of July. Steve didn’t want anyone to make a fuss over his birthday, but the First Lady insisted. There was a family dinner that evening at which Steve was permitted to drink wine, and she’d ordered a special dessert. Steve smiled politely as the kitchen staff brought out a three-tiered cake covered over in swirling white buttercream dotted in raspberries and blueberries. ‘Happy Birthday Stevie’ had been spelled out in thin letters of fudge around the side. Four sparklers stuck into the top sparked and sizzled as the Pierce family sang to him with obvious reluctance.</p>
<p>The First Lady insisted Steve cut the first piece. The cake was delicious; all the food served at the White House was good. Still, the only person to finish his slice besides Steve, was Pierce. The rest ate one or two bites and then pushed their plates away. Steve found out in the morning that the First Lady had the kitchen toss the leftover cake into the garbage.</p>
<p>Since the FSA celebrated their own ‘independence’ on April 7, there weren’t any fireworks in DC for the 4<sup>th</sup>, nor any parades or speeches or televised specials. The week before, though, Steve had been photographed for a feature article that went live that morning on the <em>patriot.gov</em> website. Angie had chaperoned the shoot to be sure the photos were elegant, sophisticated and beautiful. Steve spent that afternoon being professionally made up, dressed, and then posed ‘artistically’ in and around the White House, and not saying much. ‘Artistically’ turned out to mean ‘draped across the furniture while wearing little more than a thin netting, leg raised to preserve modesty.’ Participating in this photo shoot turned out to be Natasha’s birthday gift to him.</p>
<p>Pierce gave him a thick gold chain with two pendants, each secured to links at opposite ends. It was worn around the hips, like a belt, and one pendant hung in front and the other behind. The chain hung low enough on Steve’s hips that the front pendant rested against the lowest part of his abdomen, just above his cocklet, and the rear pendant bounced against his ass when he walked.</p>
<p>Pierce loved it. He also loved fucking Steve in it, the front pendant slapping against Steve’s cocklet, the rear one laying directly against Steve’s asshole. He insisted Steve wear the chain at every state event afterward, beneath his sheer formal skirt and clearly visible.</p>
<p>Steve attracted a great deal of attention from official visitors. Fairly early on, the Canadian prime minister came to the White House. About twenty or so people, mostly prominent Canadians, were on the guest list for a small dinner. Steve was dressed in a long, diaphanous skirt of violet, a panty studded with purple amethysts, and a matching bandeau that only covered his breasts due to the twisting folds in the fabric. Angie styled his hair into a loose French twist, tendrils of gold trailing across his forehead and clinging to his dangling amethyst earrings. The prime minister was delighted by Steve and focused much of his dinner conversation on him, to Pierce’s barely concealed irritation.</p>
<p>Afterward, the assembled guests enjoyed a private tour of the lesser-seen rooms, including the bowling alley, the chocolate shop, and the Lincoln Bedroom. They ended up in the movie theater for a special showing of <em>Men with Brooms</em>, a Canadian comedy about curling. Steve enjoyed the film. He was allowed to sit in his own seat between Pierce and the prime minister, who shared his popcorn. When Pierce noticed, he pulled Steve into his lap until the movie ended, distracting Steve from the climactic bonspiel by fondling him and nuzzling his neck.</p>
<p>The prime minister cornered Pierce, and therefore Steve, as the other guests were making small talk with the First Lady. “In Canada,” he said, “we don’t treat Omegas like property.” He glanced at Steve. “They’re afforded the full rights of every other Canadian citizen. Like it still is in the US.”</p>
<p>“This isn’t the US anymore,” Pierce replied. He pulled Steve in close with an arm around his bare shoulders. “You have your own Omega. I notice you didn’t bring her.”</p>
<p>The prime minister smiled thinly. “You know very well <em>he’s</em> due in a couple weeks. This is the last leg of my international tour. I’m going to be home for the birth of our child.” He glanced at Steve again, his smile turning friendly and warm.</p>
<p>Pierce made a noise in his throat. “Are you going to do the other thing we talked about?”</p>
<p>The prime minister sighed. His expression turned patient. “My answer is the same. Canada is a sovereign nation and will do everything in its power to prevent unauthorized border crossings, particularly crossings meant to transport weapons or troops without prior permission.” His next smile reached his eyes, which made his face even more handsome than Steve thought could be possible. “No matter what my personal opinions about the leaders of those countries might be.”</p>
<p>“And yet you allow those bastards from the US to cross Lake Michigan whenever they please.”</p>
<p>“The Great Lakes don’t belong to either country. If you don’t want people to land on your side of Michigan, your Coast Guard should do something about it. My answer still stands.” He turned as Miss Natasha joined them. “Of course,” he said. “It’s late, and I must get back to my embassy to check in on my bondmate. He had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon and I want to be sure everything’s still on track.” He stood straight and bowed slightly toward Pierce before leaning in and giving the First Lady a kiss on her cheek. “Mr. President, Mrs. Pierce. Thank you both for a lovely evening. When you are next in Ottawa, we will return this favor. Stevie,” he said, leaning in to press dry lips against Steve’s cheek, “I hope I get a chance to see you again as well. I know the rest of my family would love to meet you.”</p>
<p>Pierce sent Steve up to their rooms to wait for him “you know where” while the Canadians got into their black SUVs and returned to their embassy.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t always like it when the White House hosted parties, but at least he got to be treated a little more like a human being some of the time.</p>
<p>On average, Steve spent one full night a week by himself while Pierce saw to the First Lady’s sexual needs in private. And then there were the occasional parties full of Alphas before which Steve would be shot up with ‘medicine,’ displayed, and finger-fucked in front of the Alphas until one of them broke and challenged Pierce for rights to his Omega. At least, that’s what Steve pieced together about the evenings’ events. He never remembered any one of them with any great reliability.</p>
<p>He’d remember the preparation for it, getting cleaned up, getting dressed, getting the injection in his ass. He’d remember going into Pierce’s bedroom where his children would be gathered to watch Pierce dress. He’d remember how Pierce would always kiss his daughter on the mouth and grope her behind before sending her off to her husband and how Pierce’s sons would glare at Steve but otherwise ignore him. Then they’d walk down the hall to the room with the big bay windows and view of DC where Steve would be unveiled and right about then, the drugs would always kick in hard.</p>
<p>Everything after that was a shifting mix of color and scent and heat and need.</p>
<p>He’d climb up on Pierce’s lap. Pierce would stroke his stomach. One by one the other Alphas would approach and sniff his scent and, inadvertently or on purpose, let Steve sniff theirs in return. Their scents were pleasant enough, making Steve think generally of gun oil or metal or horses or leather. Then there’d be Mr. Log Cabin With Roaring Fire in the beautiful suit and he’d always be followed by Coulson who smelled like really good paper, but it was Mr. Log Cabin With Roaring Fire who made Steve’s insides respond, who made Steve’s legs part and his slick pour out of him.</p>
<p>Whether Pierce noticed Steve’s intense reaction to Mr. Log Cabin With Roaring Fire or even cared if Steve showed a preference for one Alpha scent or another, he never gave any outward sign. No, Pierce just undid Steve’s bandeau to reveal his breasts, then played with his nipples until Steve became a whimpering mess. Only then, after Steve was gasping in Pierce’s arms, would Pierce undo the panty, peel it away from Steve’s sticky folds, reveal Steve’s cocklet to whoever cared to look, and then slip his fingers into Steve’s slick hole over and over again while Steve wordlessly begged and writhed on Pierce’s lap. The shadows and movement would swirl, there’d be shouting and laughter and Pierce would be watching, always watching, even as he plunged his fingers into Steve’s body, over and over, his thumb rubbing at the tip of Steve’s cocklet, his palm hitting Steve’s pelvis and making a squelching sound until Steve was shouting his pleasure, shaking with it, his one hand gripping Pierce’s shoulder and his other bracing himself on Pierce’s knee, and then the flood of pleasure would ebb and Steve would collapse onto Pierce’s arms, head on his shoulder, and doze quietly.</p>
<p>In the morning, he’d wake up in his own bed, his hole would be sore like he’d taken a knot, and he’d fail his pregnancy test.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until Steve had been in the White House for three months that he learned the name of Mr. Log Cabin With Roaring Fire.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bucky Gets a New Assignment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What it says on the box: Bucky gets a new assignment.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Col. James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, a hero of the FSA, was a frequent lunch guest of Natasha’s, so Angie had met him several times. This was just the first time Steve had been invited to do anything social with the First Lady by herself. Angie, therefore, had to give him a complete rundown on everything to expect. Miss Natasha would not tolerate any missteps.</p>
<p>The First Lady hosted her private lunches in the first floor solarium at the back of the White House that overlooked the Rose Garden. Angie told Steve as she oversaw his preparation, “Be cheerful, helpful, polite. Answer any questions honestly but, of course, make sure you make the First Family look good. You’ll be allowed to sit at the table in your own chair like everyone else, but don’t eat too much. Watch how much I put on my plate and follow suit. Afterwards, we’ll sit at Miss Natasha’s feet while she has conversation with her guests. Speak only if asked a direct question. If you get on well, maybe she’ll invite you to more outings. We’d have such fun together!”</p>
<p>It seemed simple enough.</p>
<p>Angie had chosen for him a green outfit and covered it over with thin cloak that draped across his shoulders and barely touched the floor at his feet. The cloak fastened with a single oversized button right at Steve’s sternum. He thought he might be starting to go into heat in the next several days or so, so he inserted a cup into his vagina as a precaution to prevent his slick from pouring out of him unexpectedly. The heat cup was a new device that his O-OB/GYN doctor proscribed for him the month before. Steve hoped it worked as advertised and spared him the embarrassment of leaking in front of everyone or having to clean his panty in the bathroom sink before the laundry service saw it.</p>
<p>Angie, resplendent in a pink button-up vest and flower-patterned skirt that clung to her hips, met him in the main hallway and led him downstairs to the solarium. They arrived just as the servants were finishing up the decorative touches in the room.</p>
<p>“This is lovely,” Steve breathed. “So many flowers.”</p>
<p>“Miss Natasha adores flowers,” Angie agreed. “Don’t they smell nice?”</p>
<p>They lingered by the table, preset for eight. Steve and Angie would be sitting at the midpoint of the gathering. About fifteen feet away, Angie showed Steve where they’d be after lunch, and which cushion was meant for him and which for her. When the guests arrived, Angie greeted them all by name and made introductions to ‘Stevie, the President’s Omega.’ That was how he met the UK Ambassador Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter, and Commander Brock Rumlow who was escorting her, as well as Lt. Commander Jack Rollins, and Maria Hill, the First Lady’s Chief of Staff. Last to arrive was the First Lady herself, her hand tucked into Colonel Barnes’s elbow. She greeted her guests with hugs and air-kisses, then suggested they sit for lunch.</p>
<p>Like all Omega students attending a federal school, Steve had been well rehearsed in comportment, etiquette and general manners. He’d been leaning heavily on his training ever since arriving at the White House and it had become second nature. He didn’t even falter when Col. Barnes pulled out Steve’s seat for him and placed Steve’s napkin across his lap. Colonel Barnes did. <em>That </em>Alpha. The one who smelled of wood and fire. That one.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Col. Barnes,” Steve said, keeping his voice soft and respectful. Steve sniffed him as discreetly as he could, though Barnes’s scent today was more elusive than he’d liked. Maybe the Alpha had showered recently. Not all the Alphas had taken care with their aromatic presentation; one of them definitely smelled like wet dog and the other more like some mixture of gun oil and warm tropical fruit.</p>
<p>Barnes smiled back at Steve, then took his seat between Steve and Natasha. Angie sat across from Steve between Rollins and Ambassador Carter; Maria Hill took her seat at the foot of the table. Rumlow shouldered in on Steve’s other side. The military officers were wearing their uniforms. Only Natasha and Maria Hill wore comfortable clothing, Steve realized, even though they had chosen form-fitting dresses and low heels that day.</p>
<p>The first course of salad was accompanied by polite conversation. Maria began telling some story about a package delivery gone awry when Brock leaned over toward Steve and said, his voice low and grumbly, “You look different in the daylight when you’re not spread on the president’s lap.”</p>
<p>Steve hesitated, his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth, a neatly speared tomato balancing in mid-air. “I should expect so, sir,” Steve managed, his throat tight. “I’m at lunch at the First Lady’s table.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Rumlow said with a chuckle. “I guess she’s not going to be –“</p>
<p>“Is there a problem, Commander Rumlow?” Natasha’s voice rang clear through the room. “Do I need to excuse the Omega from the room?” She fixed Steve with a glare. “Has Little Stevie been naughty?”</p>
<p>Steve put his fork back on his plate, the tomato abandoned. He folded his hands in his lap and forced himself to look down, to look meek and respectful. His first outing at the First Lady’s table and he was already messing it up.</p>
<p>“Naw, Mrs. Pierce,” Rumlow said easily. “I’m just reminding Stevie here we’ve met before. Pierce introduced her to us at one of his soirees, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“I’m well aware,” Natasha said, her tone scorchingly dry. “Do you think I don’t know what my husband does at all times? He is my husband. I know his dreams.”</p>
<p>Ambassador Carter spoke up then. “Stevie is an honored member of the president’s household. She’s the president’s Omega and she will, God willing, bear your president another child.”</p>
<p>Maria lifted her glass. “Here’s to that unborn child,” she said, “and may he or she bring new unity and peace to our country.”</p>
<p>The others lifted their glasses, so Steve did, too. He found it easy to drink to unity and peace, only he wanted it to be under the original flag, not this ersatz Confederacy.</p>
<p>“Is there a child yet,” Barnes asked with a congenial grin after they toasted. “I know there’s all sorts of speculation in the press and the general public about it.”</p>
<p>Steve glanced up at Barnes. He’d not heard him speak before then, not that he remembered, beyond the quiet ‘nice to meet you’ he’d offered earlier. Barnes had a good voice, Steve thought. Well-modulated and warm and familiar, almost. Barnes caught him looking and smiled back.</p>
<p>“Not that I am permitted to say,” Natasha replied demurely. “An announcement cannot be made yet.”</p>
<p>Rollins shook his head. “Pardon me for being crude, ma’am, but she looks healthy enough. I can understand the president being reluctant to take his attention off you, you’re very pretty, but surely this one’s fertile.”</p>
<p>Natasha dimpled. “You think I’m pretty? How sweet.” Then she returned to her salad, cutting into her lettuce and vegetables with a vengeance. “But this one has no heat yet. Soon, we are told. A week?” She shrugged. “Maybe more. Maybe less.”</p>
<p>Barnes put his fork down, signaling he was done with his salad. Steve hurried up to try and clean his plate before the servants approached to prepare for the second course.</p>
<p>A light soup followed that Steve found to be thin and watery and in need of pepper. After that, they were served a selection of small sandwiches and bowls of homemade potato chips.</p>
<p>“I just love these,” Natasha grinned, scooping the potato chips next to her sandwich. “I have them all the time I can. Angie, what’s your favorite food for lunch?”</p>
<p>As Angie thought about it, the others started chiming in with their favorites. Rumlow took that opportunity to lean closer to Steve to whisper, “My favorite food is Omega slick. I could eat that up all day long.”</p>
<p>Steve froze, his roast beef sandwich turning to mush in his mouth. He became aware of how very big Rumlow was, how strong and stalwart he appeared to be in his uniform. He didn’t specifically remember Rumlow from one of Pierce’s parties, but he assumed the man had been in attendance. What must he have seen, what must he think of Steve that he’d talk this way to him at a nice lunch with other important people? He was a member of the First Family. Didn’t that merit some measure of respect?</p>
<p>Barnes lightly bumped his arm then with his elbow. “What’s going on there, Stevie? You haven’t said what your favorite food for lunch is.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I…” He glanced at Natasha. “I was just thinking about it. I guess my favorite lunch was always a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup.”</p>
<p>Angie groaned. “Oh, yes! Yes! That’s the best thing ever. I agree. I want to change my answer.”</p>
<p>“I never have this,” Natasha said. She looked puzzled. “It is good?”</p>
<p>Maria replied, “It’s comfort food. You dunk the grilled cheese into the tomato soup. It’s pretty good. The chefs can make an upscaled version for you, if you like, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“This I would like to try, yes.”</p>
<p>Barnes bumped Steve’s arm again and gave him a happy smile. Steve returned it. It wasn’t difficult; he was glad Barnes wasn’t saying some of the things to him that Rumlow felt free enough to say. Then Barnes glanced above Steve’s head and his expression turned flat, stone-cold and dangerous.</p>
<p>He’s looking at Rumlow right now, Steve thought, shocked. I wonder what that means. Does he think Rumlow’s being rude? What does Barnes care? Are they fighting about something else? What am I missing here?</p>
<p>After lunch, Steve and Angie positioned themselves on the pillows at Natasha’s feet. The others settled in smaller chairs arranged in a circle with Natasha being given the best view of the Rose Garden. Steve followed Angie’s lead and lay his head on Natasha’s surprisingly bony knee. For a long moment, he missed Pierce’s broader, more comfortable, knee for it was always covered up by the thick cloth of his suits.</p>
<p>He and Angie were not included in much conversation after that. The group mostly discussed policy changes and proposed legislation and the proper wording for a particular executive order. Steve let his attention wander from face to face. Ambassador Carter, or Peggy, as Natasha and Maria addressed her, caught his eye and smiled warmly at him before answering a question Rumlow posed to her. Maria barely glanced in Steve’s direction. Rollins kept looking at Rumlow, while Rumlow, when he wasn’t an active participant in the discussion, was staring at Steve’s legs, curled up on the cushion. When he noticed Steve noticing, Rumlow gave him a wink.</p>
<p>And that’s when Steve noticed that Barnes noticed them looking at each other. Steve saw a small frown on Barnes’s face that smoothed out after a moment as he asked for clarification on some point of order.</p>
<p>Objectively, Barnes was very handsome, Steve realized. So was Rumlow. Rollins was more average looking, but Rumlow and Barnes were both quite good-looking. Barnes, however, was pretty when he just sat there and beautiful when he smiled. He was probably muscular underneath that suit, Steve thought, fit and healthy. Steve wondered what Barnes’s cock would look like, and what his knot might feel like, and would Barnes use a breeding bench or would he hold Steve down himself while he fucked him?</p>
<p>Steve felt Natasha’s hand on his head. Her nails dug into his scalp and that forced Steve’s attention back to the solarium, the guests, their conversation. He glanced at Angie who was giving him a concerned look. He shifted on the pillow, apologized with a grimace, and realized he felt an ache in the small of his back.</p>
<p>Fuck. He was going into heat.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Stevie always smelled so good, Bucky thought, like vanilla, lavender and sunshine. And she looked beautiful, and vulnerable, and in desperate need of protection. She just sat there, curled up on the cushion by Mrs. Pierce’s feet, wearing those ridiculously impractical yet gorgeous clothes and covered over in that shimmery light green cloak. Her skin looked luminous. Her eyes seemed to be imploring him to do something big, something impressive. Bucky felt his chest expanding as he took deeper breaths. He tried to pay attention to what Maria and Mrs. Pierce were talking about, but his mind kept drifting back to Stevie.</p>
<p>Sweet, vulnerable Stevie all curled up just three feet from his chair. Her skin looked soft – and there was so much of it. Her golden hair curled gently around her neck. Her shoulders squared off like an Alpha’s, though in miniature, and her hips curved gently like a Beta. She was the perfect androgynous combination of strength and softness, vigor and vulnerability. He wondered how responsive she’d be in bed. Would she whimper and cry when he popped his knot or would she shudder as he claimed her body and milk his orgasm out of him? Would her arms pull him closer and would her nails dig into his skin with passion and need? Or would she lie back against the pillows, her arms too weak with desire to move, her face slack with pleasure?</p>
<p>He heard a low-level growl, almost subsonic. Bucky shifted in his seat and tried to think if the growl had come from him. He glanced at Rumlow and Rollins, prepared to laugh it off if they noticed him losing control. It wasn’t an unheard-of thing, to growl in the presence of an Omega, but it was still impolite to do so when that Omega belonged to someone else. It was analogous to catcalling a Beta walking down the street or hitting on someone else’s wife.</p>
<p>The growl wasn’t his, though, Bucky realized with relief. Rollins was glancing at Rumlow with a tiny, worried expression. Rumlow was just staring at Stevie. And then Bucky saw Rumlow give Stevie a wink.</p>
<p>Bucky looked for Stevie’s reaction, relieved and enraged when Stevie looked startled, confused and scared. Rumlow’s wink scared Stevie. Stevie was scared. Steve should never be scared. Stevie was not interested in Rumlow. Rumlow was a threat.</p>
<p>But Stevie didn’t belong to either of them.</p>
<p>Bucky forced himself to be calm when he asked, “Was that before or after General Ross gave his resignation?”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Lunch was a disaster, Bucky thought as he made his way down to his office in the White House basement. Coulson had found him a tiny space, about the size of two storage closets, a month ago after being offered an advisory position on the president’s staff and it had been determined that he spent all his time in the White House anyway. Being on site cut his response time to last-minute meeting requests down to minutes, which Pierce greatly preferred, having begun to include Bucky in most of his strategy meetings and military briefings. Even though he had the very last office space at the very end of the corridor, he could still make a meeting in the Situation Room or the Oval Office inside of six minutes if he walked quickly.</p>
<p>His small office wasn’t that terrible, either. It had a desk, three chairs, a bookshelf, computer access and a windowless door that locked. And no one just wandered by – there was officially nowhere to wander by <em>to</em>. The only other door this far from the main stairs led to a mechanical room, as far as anyone officially knew. That room was full of machinery supporting the air conditioning system for part of the building. Bucky had checked.</p>
<p>Sure, everything was in shades of brown, but that didn’t bother Bucky. It was soothing, and when he returned from the First Lady’s lunch and shut his door? He could lock it, sit in his desk chair, unzip his pants, stroke himself and think about what if Stevie were there right now, what if she were in his office, wearing one of those silky bandeau and panty sets, straddling his hips, loosening that bandeau so he could mouth at her tits, his hands on her firm little ass, undo her panty so that her cocklet, her hard and aching little cock, would fall into his hand and he would stroke her, and reach up into her wet little body, her silky heat, and he would guide himself into her, wet and hot and tight, so wet he’d feel it over his balls, so tight he’d worry about knotting her, would she be able to handle it? Would she whimper or would she beg for it? <em>Please, please, Bucky</em>, she’d groan, <em>please knot me, I need it, I need you!</em> And then he’d shove all the way inside her and the rim of her hole would clench on his knot, tight, tighter, and he’d start to come. Her body would massage his knot, undulate against his cock, and he would come and come and come and she’d fall onto his chest and he’d shelter her – and what if she wanted to be called ‘he’? What if – <em>he</em> wanted – and Bucky started coming hard, spilling over his hands and onto his desk and he had to pull his dick to one side so that he wouldn’t shoot onto his laptop because that would be too embarrassing to explain to IT. He grabbed a tissue and tried to catch it all.</p>
<p>He ended up slumped over in his chair, feeling a sense of relief as well as a sense of disquiet. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about Omegas who belonged to other Alphas, nor should he be misgendering anyone.</p>
<p>“Ugh!” he groaned out loud. It used to be simpler. A person would just ask an Omega outright what pronouns they preferred, if they couldn’t get a pretty good guess from the way they were dressed. English was not easily going to accept the use of ‘it’ for a person; the connotation that ‘it’ referred to a ‘thing’ would not go away anytime soon. Ironically, English was a non-gendered language. It was the gendered languages that had no trouble calling Omegas by neutral pronouns. But ever since Executive Order #897, all Omegas were to be considered female because they could give birth, and giving birth was the sole basis for being considered female. If a person could not give birth, they were considered Alpha by default. Of course, that flew in the face of science. A host of medical professionals tried to explain why the ability to give birth would never work as a dividing line between two genders when there were clearly (and chromosomally) three. Which was not to mention people who were infertile or those who had been born into the incorrectly gendered body – it was a mess, but Pierce held firm. It should be simple, so it was simple, he said, and those who couldn’t get on board with the new normal were punished in various ways for it.</p>
<p>Bucky did not intend to need punishment for anything. He was a loyal rule-follower of the FSA and of President Pierce and he was never going to screw that up.</p>
<p>He cleaned up his mess and refocused himself on his work.</p>
<p>Around six, a message popped up on his computer screen from Coulson. It read: Hey! Need a quick chat before you get out of here. Meet in my office, ok?</p>
<p>Bucky typed back an acceptance, then started packing up his things. Even though his office was secure, he still packed his notebook away into a locked desk drawer and his laptop into a carrying case. He locked his office and started the familiar trek back through the basement halls to the main staircase, then through the press area and main staff bullpen to the Chief of Staff’s office. Coulson’s secretary wasn’t at her desk, so Bucky just tapped on Coulson’s partly opened door.</p>
<p>“You wanted to see me, sir?”</p>
<p>Coulson was alone in his office. He smiled at Bucky and waved him in, closing his own laptop. “Shut the door,” he instructed. “This is off the record.”</p>
<p>Bucky did as he was told then sat at one of Coulson’s guest chairs, aiming his expression at ‘polite interest’ rather than the deep concern he was feeling. “What’s up?” he asked.</p>
<p>“This is a delicate matter,” Coulson said, “but you’ve impressed the president with your self-control and reserve during his soirees and he wants to take advantage of that.”</p>
<p>“Of my self-control and reserve? How?”</p>
<p>Coulson smiled blandly. “His Omega, Stevie, has gone into heat. Doctors estimate it will last approximately three days.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. “Sounds about right,” he said. “Isn’t that the average?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Coulson said. “That’s not the problem. The president is a busy man, as I’m sure you’re aware.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Bucky said automatically.</p>
<p>“He cannot attend his Omega for the full three days,” Coulson said in a careful tone.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Bucky said automatically again. “I mean, of course not.” He shifted in his chair and waited for Coulson to explain further.</p>
<p>“He cannot devote the time to his Omega’s heat that he would otherwise since he is so preoccupied with matters of state. There’s a war going on, you know,” Coulson said, “and if he were engaged with his Omega and a situation arose that needed his immediate attention? Well, you can imagine how it would look for our president to literally get caught with his pants down.”</p>
<p>Bucky hesitated before saying, “This happens all the time though. With all sorts of high-ranking Alphas,” he went on. “That’s why there are bonding rooms included in C-level suites. There’s one just outside the Oval Office. They say that LBJ ran the war in Viet Nam from the business end of a breeding bench.”</p>
<p>“They say that’s why he literally fucked it up, you mean,” Coulson said, then waved away the joke. “This is all true, but President Pierce is not LBJ or Kennedy or even Bush-41, each of whom had an Omega who went into heat during times of crisis during his presidency and subsequently bore children. That sort of thing just isn’t done much anymore. The president thinks it’s old-fashioned, and that breeding one’s Omega is a private matter anyway, not something that can or should be done with an audience.”</p>
<p>“But-“ The word was out of his mouth before Bucky could stop himself.</p>
<p>Coulson eyed him carefully. “Breeding one’s Omega is not meant for an audience. I think you can agree with me and state with perfect sincerity and truthfulness that President Pierce has never bred any Omega in any public forum.”</p>
<p>Bucky forcibly calmed himself. “Of course not.” That was strictly true. Holding a naked Omega on one’s lap while getting her off was not, technically, breeding her, and those evening gatherings were hardly public. They weren’t even official gatherings. “I understand,” he said. “But I thought the goal was to get her pregnant? Surely there’s a better chance if she’s in heat…?”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s still the goal, but you won’t be getting Stevie pregnant,” Coulson said. “That’s not what you’re being asked to do. The president is going to breed his Omega. You’re only going to occupy Stevie when the president cannot. It’s simple.”</p>
<p>“How…? What…?” Bucky couldn’t fathom it. “Won’t the president <em>want</em> to be the only one… involved, shall we say, with his Omega?” How would having a second Alpha in the room be anything but a distraction?</p>
<p>Coulson sat back in his chair. “This decision was not made lightly. You passed each test the president set for you. He trusts you. As for parentage of any potential pups, the president will be sequestered with Stevie for the first twelve hours starting tonight. Your presence is not required until tomorrow. You will occupy Stevie until noon for the next three days so that the president can attend his morning briefings and so forth.”</p>
<p>“Oh, okay,” Bucky said slowly. “And so he’ll be with Stevie the rest of the time. That makes sense.” It mostly did, anyway.</p>
<p>“Oh, no.” Coulson shook his head. “There’s another Alpha for the afternoon. He was honored to be chosen. Just like you are.”</p>
<p>“Honored, right,” Bucky said. “Of course, I am. I’ll do what I can, anyway.”</p>
<p>“That’s all we ask. I’ve taken the liberty of having my assistant reschedule your mornings appropriately. There’ll be an email confirmation of the shift in your meeting schedule, but no one will hold this against you. It’s at the president’s request, after all.”</p>
<p>“Of course. Uh, what time?”</p>
<p>“Show up at the president’s sitting room at seven A.M.,” Coulson said. “You can forgo the suit and tie. No reason to be formal. And be sure you’ve cleaned with neutralizing soap. Do you have any? I can get you some if not.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m good,” Bucky said. “Standard military issue, after all.”</p>
<p>“Perfect. Any other questions?”</p>
<p>“Condoms, I guess?”</p>
<p>“There’ll be an injection,” Coulson said. “A nurse will take care of it each morning in the sitting room. You’ll temporarily be sterilized. You won’t notice any other effects. It’s perfectly safe and your fertility will come back after twelve hours or seven full knots, whichever comes first, pardon the expression.”</p>
<p>“Seven?”</p>
<p>Coulson shrugged. “It depends on the individual, of course, and it’s a sliding scale, but you’ll only be with Stevie for five hours. If you can fully knot seven times in five hours, more power to you, I say."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The August Heat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The onset of Steve's heat and then the first part of Day 1.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve spent the afternoon on his bed covered over in a thin flannel blanket. Angie brought him some cheese, nuts and sliced bread to eat, then encouraged him to drink two bottles of water. After letting him pee alone, she came into the bathroom and started running water into the tub.</p><p>“You need to be super-duper-clean before the president will take you,” she said. “Miss Natasha’s going to come in here in a bit and send me out so she can do some of this herself. It’s, like, Russian tradition or something for the Beta to prepare the Omega for the Alpha. She’ll be with you the whole time the president is with you, but he’s got important work to do and he won’t be able to stay with you during the day. He’s chosen only the most loyal Alphas to stay with you, though.”</p><p>“What? What do you mean, stay with me?” He let her remove the little clothing he was wearing and guide him into the tub to soak.</p><p>Angie knelt beside the tub and began to scrub Steve’s body with a sea sponge. “You’re getting a companion Alpha in the morning and one in the afternoon, too. The president trusts them to treat you right. You’ll be safe in their care. Then the president will be back to spend the nights with you. Don’t worry,” she said, catching Steve’s expression, “only the president will be able to impregnate you. The other Alphas will be chemically castrated.”</p><p>“What?” Steve felt his jaw drop in shock. “That’s not fair – that’s not right!”</p><p>“Oh, silly,” Angie said with a light laugh. “It’s just temporary. They’ll get their juju back. Just not with you.”</p><p>She washed every inch of Steve’s body, chattering away about something vaguely amusing that Miss Peggy (the UK Ambassador) had said once. Steve half-listened. She scraped the few fine hairs from under his arms with a sharp razor, then did the same to the hairs that grew on his legs. She took a few moments to stare contemplatively at his genitals before giving them a little pat and moving on to help him out of the tub.</p><p>Angie dried him off thoroughly before rubbing a thick lotion over his skin from neck to toes. She applied astringent to his face, dried and styled his hair into soft waves around his shoulders, then filed his well-manicured nails some more. Her conversation slowed and she kept glancing at the door. Steve felt himself getting tenser and tenser as his heat grew.</p><p>He hadn’t really been through a proper heat before, so he wasn’t entirely sure how it would go. An Omega going through puberty typically experienced only mild heats, easily dealt with by judicious application of quiet and rest. Steve’s mother had put him on suppressants. She had a connection, she said, in Queens, that gave her the real stuff in exchange for a favor she declined to describe. The real stuff lasted six months and prevented all heats, all chances of pregnancy. They’d made their escape while Steve still had a month to go on his latest treatment.</p><p>Oddly, the time he most enjoyed at the federal school was the one lone heat he’d been able to muster up. Rather than be expected to push through it and continue all normal activities, Omegas at the school were allowed to spend their heats resting in a special room, away from all classes and schedules, indulging their sensitive natures at their most distressing time. They would wrap themselves in blankets, curl up on couches, watch game shows and old westerns on the flatscreen TV. The food on offer was fresher than the cafeteria generally served, and they were allowed to eat as much of it as they liked. What’s more, they were generally left alone, and could cuddle together and commiserate over the insistent little urges that rippled under the skin unable to resolve into a true heat without the presence of an Alpha. Every Omega left that room after three or four days wishing their heat could last just a little while longer.</p><p>Conventional wisdom said that Omegas needed three things to go into a proper heat: stability, security, and an adult Alpha. If that were true, Steve figured this was bound to be his first full-on true heat because life at the White House was nothing but stable and secure. Or, at least, his body probably thought so what with the regular bedtimes, delicious and filling meals, and the omnipresent security measures that came with living in the White House. And, of course, the adult Alpha he lived in close proximity to. Already he was feeling woozy, a little blank, a little touch-starved. Even so, his mind was fully aware that he was in the nest of the enemy, surrounded by True Believers whose every action was designed to consolidate power for themselves at the expense of everyone else. They were the antithesis of everything he’d been raised to believe in.</p><p>But what could he do about it? He was one Omega in a country at war to defend the right to subjugate Omegas, to drain resources, to encourage hatred and in-fighting so that no one realized that groups had to band together in order to fight the real enemy, and that compromise was the only way anything ever got done.</p><p>He was stuck.</p><p>He was stuck and he was burning up from the inside. His abdomen felt both full of fire and empty. He might be sick. He was certainly dizzy. The lights seemed strange, like they were moving. He felt like he felt when he was getting ready for one of the president’s soirees. He said as much to Angie, who replied, “Of course. That’s what doctor give you. Extra Omega hormones to put you in little heat so that Pierce can show you off and test his Alphas. What did you think was going on, you silly girl?”</p><p>Steve blinked. That wasn’t Angie’s voice.</p><p>“No, stupid girl. Angie has gone away. I take care of you. Hold still.”</p><p>It was Miss Natasha in front of him. He frowned. Angie was definitely there at one point, but… she had gone away? Well, she said she would have to.</p><p>Natasha had been rubbing something into Steve’s cheeks. Now she looked critically at him. She dusted a light pinkish powder over his face. Thick gloss over his lips. Something brushed over his eyelids. She brushed his hair again. She took him by the wrist and led him naked through the hall and into his bedroom. There, she covered him over in a length of sheer fabric. It draped over his head, reaching the floor equally on all sides, secured by nothing. Natasha reached up under the hem to his nipples and pinched them cruelly. Steve gasped and shrunk back from her. Natasha grinned at him like a shark. She reached down and did the same to his cocklet, pinching the tip and then pulling at it until it stood out straight from his body. She let the covering fall again.</p><p>“We go now. Follow me.”</p><p>Pierce’s bedroom had been well-lit the few times Steve had been in it before. Now, there was a fire in the hearth and the lamps on either side of the huge four-poster bed only cast dim circles. The doors to the closet and Pierce’s bathroom were closed. The breeding bench stood in front of the fire, massive and heavy and full of import. Steve moved toward it, but a voice stopped him.</p><p>“I’m over here, Stevie.”</p><p>He turned. There was Pierce, sitting in a large wing-back chair, in shadow, in dark jeans and a black hoodie. His feet were bare. The suddenly casual look was disorienting. Steve felt Natasha’s hand on the center of his back give him a push. Steve stumbled forward.</p><p>“S-Sir,” Steve said, his mouth dry.</p><p>Pierce sat upright. He gestured Steve closer with the crook of a finger. Then he shrugged off the black hoodie to reveal his bare chest. Steve realized he’d never seen the president unclothed at all before. Before, when he was being bred, the president would stand behind him, undo his pants, and then do them up again before Steve even stood upright. But now? He stared. Pierce must have been well-muscled as a younger man, Steve thought, because at seventy years, he was still impressive. A smattering of white hair across his chest allowed flat nipples to be seen. His skin was freckled, lightly brown, soft.</p><p>Pierce ran a hand across his chest as he smiled at Steve. His gaze clearly traveled from Steve’s face to his chest to his cocklet. Pierce ran his hand across his mouth. He looked at something over Steve’s shoulder – probably his wife – and nodded.</p><p>Steve heard a door close. For a moment, he thought Natasha had left him alone but then he felt the thin fabric covering him slide off in a noiseless rush. He stood naked now, in front of President Pierce, and his heat was becoming difficult to ignore. He felt his cocklet plumping out from his body. He felt his thighs getting slick. His limbs trembled.</p><p>Pierce stood up.</p><p>He seemed to tower over Steve, massive and hulking and strong. Steve wanted to go to his knees. He was in heat and this was the only Alpha around. If there were another one, they would fight, and he’d know which one wanted him more, but there was only one and so Steve could only beg for his attention. He felt his knees tremble and hated himself for it. This was still President Pierce. This was still the Alpha who’d destroyed the USA. Pierce was a true traitor. There could be no more traitorous act than to literally end the Republic, and still Steve wanted to go to his knees in supplication.</p><p>He did not, however. It was still Pierce and Steve still had some of his wits about him.</p><p>Pierce met Steve’s eyes directly. He unzipped his pants and slid them off his lean hips. He was nude underneath. He pulled his cock out easily, letting the plump length of it hang there, the tip glistening, the knot a thickening ring around the base.</p><p>Steve felt his mouth water. He wanted to lick that cock. He wanted to bury it deep in his body. The smell of Alpha swept over him and he felt his eyelids droop.</p><p>“Get on the bed,” Pierce said. “Present for me, little Omega. My pretty little Omega.”</p><p>Steve might have nodded. He definitely turned toward the bed and crawled onto it. The mattress was high off the ground and he had to move awkwardly, like a child, to pull himself up. He hadn’t been given specific instructions, so he decided to be comfortable. He moved to the center of the mattress where the pillows were stacked. The bed had been turned down to reveal satiny dark blue sheets, but the coverlet was still in place, a heavy, brocade affair with jewels of some kind sewn into it in different patterns. It would hurt his knees if he weren’t careful with how he was positioned.</p><p>Steve felt the mattress dip and shift as Pierce got into position behind him. He’d dropped his jeans while Steve was moving around and Steve felt the heat from Pierce’s body as he moved closer. Pierce’s hand was large and hot on Steve’s hips.</p><p>“Bend over more,” Pierce cooed. “That’s it. Spread your thighs. Show me you want me.”</p><p>Steve had to arch his back to accommodate the position Pierce seemed to desire. His hips tilted up high while his face pressed into a pillow. The mattress moved again as Natasha knelt to one side of Steve. He stifled a cry with a fist in his mouth. He wanted to be filled – now. He wanted to be bred – now. He wanted to be fucked – now. Just maybe not by Pierce. Pierce was a horrible human being who didn’t care about anyone’s happiness except maybe Natasha’s, who was clearly only interested in the perks that came from being the First Lady.</p><p>He felt Natasha’s hands stroking his butt cheeks. She squeezed him and ran her nails across his skin, then pulled his ass and thighs apart. “Look at her cunt, so wet and juicy,” she purred. “She wants you.”</p><p>Shame and embarrassment filled him. Being aroused was normal during a heat. It didn’t mean anything. He’d get just as aroused for Pierce as for anyone because it was just biological. It meant nothing. But why did hearing her say it make him feel like it was true?</p><p>But Pierce stroked a finger from the base of his phallus to the pucker of his asshole. “So tempting,” Pierce said. “I’m going to ruin her.”</p><p>“Give me a baby, Alex, my love,” Natasha said, a hint of steel in her tone.</p><p>Pierce pushed forward, his cock shoving into Steve in one move. Steve grunted with the sudden pressure of it. Pierce groaned and began thrusting hard, pumping into Steve like a piston. Natasha was moaning and Steve heard tell-tale slurping sounds. They were kissing each other. Pierce kept fucking into him, a little faster, then a little faster still, then he grabbed Steve’s hips and pulled him tight. Pierce’s knot began to inflate and Steve scrambled for purchase on the bed, something to hold onto, something to put him over the edge.</p><p>Pierce leaned against Steve, pushing his whole body into the bed. Steve’s cocklet pressed hard into the brocade. It was rough, unyielding, scratchy and Steve gasped because it felt good in a strange way. It felt like relief, like how scratching felt better than petting an itch. He tried moving his hips, hoping to rub himself off against the brocade. Pierce gasped, shocked, and shuddered, and his knot pulsed faster.</p><p>“Holy fuck,” Pierce said. “She’s so into this. What a slut.”</p><p>“I told you,” Natasha said. She stroked Steve’s shoulder and upper arm. “She’s hot for you, my delicious Alpha.”</p><p>Pierce reached around Steve’s torso and hauled him upright, balancing him against the saddle of Pierce’s hips. Steve now fell further and harder onto Pierce’s cock, the knot moving deeper inside Steve’s body. Steve’s cocklet bounced in the air. He wanted to grab it, to stroke it, but as soon as he touched himself, Natasha slapped his hand.</p><p>“Bad girl,” she said. “Naughty girl.”</p><p>Natasha knelt in front of Steve, her knees now under his thighs. Steve tried not to look her in the face. She was completely naked. Her breasts were full with pink nipples that were tight with interest. She was strong, Steve could see, with sleek muscles. She had no pubic hair.</p><p>Pierce gripped Steve under his arms, hands on Steve’s rib cage. His head was right next to Steve’s, his chin on Steve’s shoulder, his chest hot against Steve’s back. Natasha swept her hands up over Steve’s thighs, dipping in toward his cocklet, up over his hips, over to his nipples where they pinched and pulled. Steve gasped and writhed under her touch. He felt Pierce grin, Pierce’s cheek pressing into his ear. Steve let his head fall back on Pierce’s shoulder. What purpose was it to keep fighting? This was going to go on for three days. He’d never have the strength to keep struggling. He’d just barely have the strength to get through this heat by giving in.</p><p>“Do it, you filthy girl,” Pierce said. “You sexy animal.”</p><p>Steve didn’t know what Pierce was talking about. Pierce leaned further back, bracing them both against the mattress with one hand and holding onto Steve by his waist with the other. Steve’s hands, already sort of flailing in the air, had to grab onto Pierce’s arm in order to remain in place, his body still tied to Pierce’s cock.</p><p>“Watch me, lover,” Natasha said, her mouth on Steve’s pubic bone. “Watch my mouth.”</p><p>Steve craned his neck forward to see Natasha put her open mouth on Steve’s cocklet and suck.</p><p>Steve cried out. His muscles spasmed. Pierce held him firm. Natasha’s hands were like steel on his thighs. Steve grabbed tight to Pierce’s arm, his hip. He clenched his fingers and dug in as Natasha continued to suckle his cocklet, her tongue and lips stroking and pulling at him. He’d never thought anyone would do such a thing, not to an Omega. But here it was Miss Natasha, the First Lady, on her knees sucking his cocklet…!</p><p>He cried out again, spasmed a few more times, and then felt a release of pressure out his cocklet as Pierce shouted next to his ear, “That’s it! Fuck! Fuck! She’s coming – oh, Natasha! Nat! Tasha! So good! Yes!” The knot inside Steve swelled and pulsed again. A feeling of well-being and delight suffused Steve’s senses and he started stroking Pierce’s body where he’d been digging in with his fingers.</p><p>Natasha wiped her mouth across Steve’s thigh. She pulled Steve upright into her arms. Her breasts were hard against his, fuller. It felt good to be held. Pierce, still deep inside Steve’s body, was braced on both arms, panting hard.</p><p>“Jesus, Nat,” he said. “You’re trying to kill me.”</p><p>Natasha, her arms around Steve’s body so that her hands could pull at his buttocks, replied, “Nonsense. I get more from your estate if you have child first and put it in your will. No child, no death. You’re safe from me, see?”</p><p>They laughed. Steve laid his head on Natasha’s shoulder. The heat had subsided for the moment.</p><p>**</p><p>Eventually, Pierce’s knot went down. One of the servants brought in a cart full of easy-to-eat food. The three of them picked at the offerings with their fingers. Pierce kept Steve on his lap. Natasha sat easily on the edge of the bed, her ass seeming to be immune to the uncomfortable brocade that had rubbed Steve’s knees raw.</p><p>They didn’t converse much beyond the subject of their dinner. When they had stopped eating, as if by mutual agreement, they washed up in Pierce’s private bathroom one by one, Steve the last one through. He had been taken aback by the opulence of Pierce’s bathroom, the gold fixtures, the sheer number of plush and fluffy towels, the size of the shower with all those different sprayers. He remembered the single bathroom he’d shared with his mother for most of his life, and the gym showers he’d used at the federal school. Not even his private bathroom in the hall had prepared him for the fancy mechanized toilet that fanned him with warm air after shooting water up his asshole and giving him a douche all while playing a strange little tune.</p><p>Back in the bedroom, the food had been covered over and the trolley pushed to one side. Pierce lay on one side of the bed under the covers. Natasha was standing, turned away. All three of them were nude but Steve found he couldn’t bring himself to care, not after what they’d all three just done together. He couldn’t be held responsible for his reactions. Could he?</p><p>Then Pierce beckoned him back into the bed. Steve climbed in and as he got closer to Pierce, he felt the familiar wave of lust wash over him for the Alpha. Pierce pulled Steve closer to him and kissed his forehead. He slid his hand over Steve’s breast and played with his nipple, watching Steve’s reaction close-up. Steve didn’t know if he should be silent, unmoved, or overreact. He remembered Natasha on that first day telling him to play Pierce’s little games. Was this what she meant? Also, what had she meant? What did Pierce want him to do?</p><p>Then Pierce’s fingernail caught a bit on Steve’s nipple and he gasped and winced. Pierce’s eye’s seemed to glow, then, and he flicked Steve’s nipple again and again. Steve reached up to grab at Pierce’s upper arm, not to pull him away but to ground himself. His hips jerked forward and his cocklet brushed against Pierce’s dick, still swollen and hot. It was warm under the covers. Pierce’s body was large and quiet, but Steve felt the heat grow in him once more. He pushed up against Pierce’s body, seeking relief, seeking comfort – and then Natasha’s arm came around his waist and pulled him backward.</p><p>“Come, little one,” she said into his ear, “let us play for Alex, yes? Let us play together. Let us put on a show for him.”</p><p>She scooched herself backward, pulling Steve with her. Pierce propped himself up higher on a mound of pillows. He looked greedy, eager. Steve was reminded of Augustus Gloop walking into the chocolate factory and realizing he could eat anything he saw.</p><p>Steve felt like candy.</p><p>Natasha rolled Steve onto his front. “Get up,” she told him. “Present for me.”</p><p>He was a little confused. Present for her? Why? She wasn’t an Alpha. She didn’t have a cock. She smacked his hip hard. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Present, Omega bitch!”</p><p>Shocked, Steve got his knees under him and raised his hips up into Natasha’s body. There was something else there, something strange, something hard and stiff and not part of a human body. It slid along his wet folds. It felt kind of good.</p><p>“That’s it. Spread your body apart. Let me fuck you now. Let me give you baby.”</p><p>Confused, but feeling a wave of need inside him, he bowed his head and raised his hips a little higher and then the strange, hard, stiff thing slid into him like it was a cock. It slid into him and Natasha groaned loud and her hips settled against his buttocks. She pulled out and slid in again and yet again, her hips slamming into his buttocks, the hard thing sliding along the muscled walls of Steve’s hole. It didn’t quite feel the same, but it wasn’t bad, either. Natasha was bouncing against his ass, crying out with every thrust, her hands started spanking his hips, his butt. She held him down at the neck, she leaned over, her face on the side facing Pierce, and said clearly, “You’re my bitch. You take my cock. My big Alpha cock. You will come on my cock because I own you.”</p><p>“Jesus, Natasha,” Pierce said, almost too quiet for Steve to hear him. “I love the way you talk. So fucking sexy. How did I get so lucky?”</p><p>Natasha just kept fucking into Steve, the tips of her breasts stroking along his shoulder blades with each thrust. She fucked into him faster and faster. Her hand moved, something made a clicking sound, and the cock inside Steve began to swell just like it had a knot. It swelled and Steve yelped in surprise. It got huge, larger than Pierce’s knot had been. Steve shifted his thighs apart, lifted his hips higher and there it was, there it was, that snap of release and he was shuddering, crying out, moaning and grasping at the sheets. His nipples were tight, his breasts heavy and his stomach clenched as he came and came and came gasping into the pillow.</p><p>Behind him, Natasha sat upright. The cock inside Steve moved a little, the knot jerking around inside him, jabbing into nerve clusters that underscored how good it felt to fuck. He heard something like a buckle come undone and then Natasha was lying beside him on her back, her chest heaving with exertion, and Pierce was kissing her and kissing her.</p><p>Steve squeezed his muscles between his legs. The knot was still inside him, still huge and still spreading his hole wide, still twitching and jerking around. It was some kind of mechanical cock, Steve realized blearily. He wondered how long the battery would last.</p><p>Natasha woke him up an hour or so later by yanking the fake cock out of his body. Pierce was watching the state news broadcast on the TV above the fireplace. Natasha pushed Steve onto his back. He stared up at her, blinking and confused as she dangled an object in front of his face.</p><p>“Your new best friend, no?” she said with a laughing grin. “This one fucked you but good, yes?” It was an eight-inch long tapered cylinder about two inches thick or so and it was attached to a hip harness. Clearly, Natasha had been wearing the harness when she’d been fucking Steve with the fake cock.</p><p>Natasha smiled without humor. She dangled the dildo in Steve’s face, let the tip bounce on his lips, then dragged the tip all the way down the midline of his body until she was pressing the tip into his cocklet. “You want it again, no? Spread your legs for me. Show me you want this again.”</p><p>Steve couldn’t think. He spread his legs. Natasha began dipping the tip of the cock into his dripping hole. His body seemed to try to grab the dildo, to devour it, but she didn’t penetrate him further. Beside him, Pierce was watching the news. He’d made another plate of food and it was balanced on his stomach.</p><p>“You can fuck her again if you want,” Pierce said. He didn’t turn his head.</p><p>“I know. I will. And then you will fuck her again. Maybe this time, I will fuck her face to face. She doesn’t like me, though. I should make her pleasure me. Maybe I will make her suck my tits.”</p><p>“After Hannity, okay?”</p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>Steve wanted to listen to the news. He wanted to know something about what was going on out there, even if it was only the state-sponsored broadcast. Unfortunately, Natasha kept teasing him with the dildo, pushing it into his body, trailing it along his thighs or across his chest. She even pushed it into his mouth and whispered, “Suck on my dick. Make it wet. I want to fuck you with it.” When she’d managed to shove about half of it into his mouth, the taste bland and plastic so it had thankfully been cleaned at some point, she left it there, tying the straps around Steve’s head. The fastener didn’t quite fit like it did around her hips, but the weight of Steve’s head kept the straps in place. Most of the dildo stuck out from Steve’s mouth in an obscene display.</p><p>Natasha grinned at him and straddled his hips. Her cunt lips were wet, like his own, and she settled them on his stiff cocklet. She rubbed her hips up and down, masturbating herself on his body. She stroked his chest and plucked at his nipples. She ran a hand down the length of the dildo in his mouth and then over his lips, then slid the dildo in and out over his tongue.</p><p>Steve kept his eyes closed. He didn’t know what to think, to feel, to do. The pressure and heat surrounding his phallus was exquisite. He wanted to pump his hips up into her. The pressure and weight of the dildo on his tongue was intrusive at first, but as his mouth got wetter and used to the stretch, he found himself lifting his head to keep licking the tip of the dildo as if it were a cock he could entice to fuck his face.</p><p>Soon Natasha was grabbing her own breasts, the forgotten dildo lodged deep in Steve’s mouth, her hips gyrating over his erect phallus and chanting, “I come, I come, I come.”</p><p>Pierce threw a napkin toward the television and shouted at the screen, “Tell the fucking truth for once!”</p><p>**</p><p>Another hour passed while Pierce complained about the television coverage and Natasha showered in his bathroom. Steve curled up on his side and tried to rest. He’d heard that heats were sexual romps, but he hadn’t thought it through. He had been experiencing waves of need and want that sort of billowed through his body and took over his mind. This wasn’t the rather orderly progression he’d been taught about in school, nor was it the mild cramping he’d felt last time. Health class most certainly did not cover what to do if a Beta were present during one’s heat, or what it meant if an Omega had sex with one.</p><p>Rationally, he knew he did not desire Natasha. For that matter, he did not desire Pierce. But now that he was in heat? They were the most desirable people around. He wanted to touch them and to have them touch him. He wanted them to penetrate his body, to fill up his senses, to stretch him beyond what he thought possible. He wanted to prove himself worthy to them.</p><p>Pierce was an Alpha. He was a lion of an Alpha. He was the Alpha of the Free World, as the state news service liked to put it. His body was warm, Steve knew, and he did have a cock and a knot, and he didn’t mind fucking it into Steve, so maybe Steve was doing okay? He stretched his arm across the mattress toward Pierce’s hip. He lifted one finger and stroked the wrinkly skin there. It was soft. It was warm. It was so close to his cock.</p><p>Steve shuffled closer. Pierce muted the television sound. He laid a hand on Steve’s head. “You’re frisky again, Stevie? Let’s get you settled down.”</p><p>Pierce pulled Steve across the mattress and then rolled on top of him, covering Steve with his entire naked body. His cock stiffened slowly but surely as Pierce licked and mouthed along Steve’s neck, biting the meat of his breast, sucking hard at his nipple, gripping his hips. Pierce got to his knees and pulled Steve onto his lap. Steve put his arms around Pierce’s neck and let his head fall backward. Pierce’s mouth was on his neck again, up to his jaw, and then they were kissing for the first time.</p><p>Pierce took immediate control of Steve’s mouth, plunging his tongue inside like he was fucking it, dominating the space. Steve could only let his mouth fall open and gasp for breath whenever Pierce’s tongue retreated.</p><p>“That’s it,” Pierce muttered between kisses, “you little whore, you little slut.”</p><p>He lifted Steve’s body and then Steve felt Pierce’s cock push into his hole, his weight pulling him down, seating him firmly around the steely flesh. Pierce bent Steve backward over his bracing arm as he squeezed Steve’s breast with the other. He thrust his hips, but the angle wasn’t great. Steve cried out in distress and desire. He needed. He heard himself begging for more, more, more.</p><p>“So hot,” Pierce was saying. “That’s it. Beg me for it.”</p><p>A cloud of steam signaled Natasha coming out of the bathroom, freshly washed and perfumed. Her hair was a fluffy red corona that haloed in the bathroom light before she flipped the switch off. She was completely nude.</p><p>“Starting without me? That’s rude,” she said, striding toward the bed.</p><p>“She’s in heat,” Pierce replied. “I’m an Alpha. Can’t help it.”</p><p>Natasha made a tutting sound as she climbed up onto the mattress next to them. “Can I play?” she whispered, her voice husky.</p><p>“Yeah,” Pierce said. “This isn’t doing it for me.” He pushed Steve backward and let his cock slide out of Steve’s body. Steve whimpered with the loss as Natasha’s hand slid down his abdomen to cradle his straining cocklet.</p><p>“Poor baby,” she cooed at him. “You need to learn what to do for your Alpha.”</p><p>“Turn her over,” Pierce said, rearranging his limbs. “I’ll breed her like an animal.”</p><p>Natasha assented, pulling at Steve’s shoulder to get him to roll over. He got back onto his hands and knees, his ass up in Pierce’s direction which put his head by Natasha’s hips.</p><p>“Good girl,” she said, and spread her legs in front of Steve’s face. She put one hand on the back of his head and drew him down to her moist pussy. “Lick me. Suck at me. Get me off and I’ll get you off.”</p><p>Steve didn’t know what to expect, but it turned out that between Natasha’s legs it tasted a lot like Steve’s slick, only not quite as copious or sweet. He lapped at her with his tongue, found her clitoris, straining like a tiny cocklet of her own, and focused his attention there. Natasha gasped, the hand on his head tightening, her nails digging into his scalp.</p><p>Behind him, Pierce had started fucking him again. With each thrust, Pierce pushed Steve into Natasha’s pussy. He was caught between them, his cocklet hard and dangling and swaying back and forth. He dropped his hips slightly, spreading his thighs a little more, and then he was brushing the tip of his cocklet against the blankets and it was just enough, just enough sensation, just enough pressure in his cunt and sensation on his cocklet and Pierce was giving off a truly heady aroma and then Natasha squirmed away from him, gasping through her orgasm and Pierce was starting to knot and Steve missed it. He missed it. Something was going to happen – the release was going to happen – but it didn’t happen because he missed it. What went wrong?</p><p>Steve gasped for air. He punched a fist into the mattress. He squirmed his hips back, fucking himself back onto Pierce’s cock. The knot was full, it was done. Steve whimpered again and let his face fall onto the mattress.</p><p>Pierce rubbed at Steve’s hip with one hand. “There, there, my little bitch,” he said. “Take your knot like a good girl and go to sleep. There’ll be more tomorrow.”</p><p>**</p><p>In the morning, Steve was woken by Pierce’s valet. The uniformed Alpha had come into the room to start the president’s day by opening the heavy drapes to let in the early morning light. The valet laid out three newspapers, turned on the television, and set a pot of coffee on the side table on Pierce’s side of the bed. Natasha groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over her head. Pierce pushed pillows behind him and sat upright. Steve had slept between them. He stretched, careful not to bump into either of them.</p><p>The valet didn’t bat an eye at seeing the three of them in bed together, though Steve was certain he himself blushed. The Alpha (Steve didn’t know his name) merely picked up the tossed-aside clothing and gathered it into a pile which he took away somewhere. He returned with a basket of bagels and pastries which he handed to Pierce, then he left again, closing the door behind him.</p><p>Pierce ate a Danish with his first cup of coffee and watched the morning news show on the state sponsored network. Steve thought the three hosts, two Alphas and a blonde Beta, were insipid and pandering, but Pierce seemed to like them. He laughed at some unfunny joke about Omegas and shopping, then bumped Steve with the back of his hand.</p><p>“Eat something,” Pierce said. “Just don’t get crumbs in the bed.”</p><p>Steve nodded and sat up to eat a blueberry muffin that looked promising. He was thirsty but didn’t dare ask for coffee and there wasn’t anything else obvious to drink. Pierce seemed to read his mind, though, because he asked if Steve wanted some. When Steve nodded, though, Pierce handed his own mug to Steve for him to drink from.</p><p>He knew that, in normal households, in the real world, when it came to marriages that included Omegas, this situation would be acceptable. The Omega, when going through a heat, could find themselves sleeping in the marriage bed, the three of them eating off a single plate, sharing resources to prepare for a baby. In his health classes, this situation was always described as God’s way of keeping babies at the center of the marital union. In practice, though? It came across as unsanitary. Steve really didn’t want President Pierce’s germs.</p><p>But he was thirsty, so he drank.</p><p>After twenty or so minutes, Pierce moved the basket onto the floor. He pushed the blanket off his lap to expose his cock. In the light, Steve took the opportunity to study the organ, the length and breadth of it as it grew and twitched under his polite scrutiny. He could see where the knot would form, the thicker portion at the base of the shaft. The size of it dwarfed his own phallus, and he could see why some made the distinction between Omegas and men.</p><p>Then Pierce took it in his hand and began to stroke it. With his other hand, he gripped Steve’s shoulder and pulled him closer. He didn’t speak, and his attention was still on the television, but he managed to get Steve to lay next to his body while he jerked himself off. It was faintly ridiculous, but Steve still felt himself respond with heat and slick and definite interest.</p><p>A few minutes passed with Pierce stroking and stroking his cock before he let go. “Get up on me,” Pierce said, guiding Steve to straddle his lap. “Bounce on my cock. You know what to do.”</p><p>Steve had a pretty good idea. Pierce’s cock felt wonderful first thing in the morning. There was that stretch again, the heat inside him, the slick running down and in this position, he could control the angle, the pressure, the speed. He heard himself gasping. The need was rising. Pierce wasn’t even looking at him so Steve closed his eyes and imagined an Alpha who did think he was worth paying attention to, who wanted Steve to feel pleasure during coupling, who might reach over and touch Steve’s cocklet like Steve was touching his cocklet and stroke and pinch a little and touch and there it was – a small release of the tension that had been building up. Steve stroked his nipples and his chest and ran his fingers through his hair as Pierce’s knot swelled up inside him.</p><p>The knot stayed there for about the length of a segment on golf cart accidents in retirement villages and how rebels had been causing the crashes by hacking into the onboard GPS of the golf carts. “They’re coming for our senior citizens because they really have no shame,” said the dark-haired Alpha Steve couldn’t remember the name of.</p><p>“Decent theory,” Pierce grunted. His knot was fading now. He pushed at Steve to get off him, then stood and began to dress.</p><p>Steve’s hips were starting to thrust on their own now. He was awake and he was in heat and he was in need once again. This was the first full day and all the rumors had suggested it would only ramp up as the day went on, that the second day was the worst and the third more like the first but in reverse and his thoughts were just circling and circling back around to ‘when will I get fucked again?’</p><p>He managed to pull himself back up the bed to put his head on the pillow. Pierce came out of his closet dressed in a suit. He stared at Steve while knotting his tie. He looked at Natasha, still lying under the covers. He shook his head with an expression of disgust, maybe? Steve couldn’t tell. He watched as Pierce strode over to Natasha’s side of the bed and smacked her ass hard.</p><p>“Hey!” she yelped, lifting her head. “What’s that for?”</p><p>“Take care of her,” Pierce said. “I need to get to the Oval now. There’s a situation in Sandy Springs.”</p><p>“A situation? What situation?”</p><p>“A possible failed uprising. Could be an attack,” he said. “We’re blaming the rebels, anyway. Standard story.”</p><p>Natasha nodded. “Go get them, tiger,” she said carefully. Pierce grinned and gently stroked her face. Then he left.</p><p>Steve lay there on the mattress. The television was still on. The announcers were going on about puppies or something. Steve’s cocklet was stiff and straining. He put his hand on himself and started to stroke, knowing it wouldn’t feel as good as –</p><p>“Get your hand away from that,” Natasha said suddenly. “You filthy girl. Let me get my cock. It’s in the bathroom.”</p><p>She’d returned wearing the harness and the cock and was kneeling up behind Steve pumping her cock into him, the knot engorged and punching its way past the rim of his hole, it hurt but it felt good, too, when the bedroom door opened and an Alpha in jeans, shirt and a leather jacket walked in who smelled like a log cabin with a roaring fire, pine and winter and clean air.</p><p>“Col. Barnes!” Natasha sang out. “Just in time. Tell me. Should I let her come or leave her begging for your cock? Which would you prefer?”</p><p>Steve raised his head and there he was. He was beautiful in his casual clothing, just as he had been in full uniform at the lunch yesterday – was it yesterday? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Col. Barnes pushed the bedroom door shut and looked at them. He looked at Steve. Steve was looking back. The cock was still pumping into him and Steve had a sudden realization that Col. Barnes who smelled like a cozy fire on a cold night was truly going to <em>spend the morning with him</em>. Col. Barnes was going to fuck him.</p><p>Steve came. He let his head fall forward and he felt himself shudder.</p><p>“Too late,” Natasha said. She unhooked herself from the harness and slid off the bed, leaving the dildo gyrating inside Steve. “So nice to see you this morning, Col. Barnes,” she said, easily as if she were at a State Dinner.</p><p>Steve had just enough brain power to realize Natasha was still nude, was standing nude in front of Col. Barnes, and neither one seemed put off by it. He slid face-forward onto the bed. The fake cock inside him didn’t care if he was in presentation position or not; it still vibrated steadily.</p><p>“Good morning, ma’am,” Barnes said finally. “Uh, I believe I’m expected?”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Natasha replied. She laid a hand on Bucky’s upper arm. “I have too much to do today to babysit this one. Do be kind not to leave marks. If she is too much trouble, we can tie her up or something with the plastic cock inside her.” She shrugged. “Or the afternoon Alpha will take a double-shift. It matters not.”</p><p>“Who is that going to be?” Barnes asked.</p><p>Natasha smiled at him. “Don’t worry. He’ll come after lunch. Breakfast is over there. Eat.” She picked up her bathrobe and slipped it over her shoulders. “Enjoy yourself.”</p><p>He thanked her and held the door for her, shutting it firmly after she left. He locked the door then and checked the lock on the door into the hall. Steve just watched him do these things, the cock twisting inside him, keeping the sensation going, breathing through his open mouth.</p><p>Steve was nude with a fake cock stuffed up his vagina, but he didn’t care. He’d been abandoned by his Alpha, his very dominant Alpha, to be seen to by some… some <em>functionary</em> as if he were a dog that needed to be house-sat or a child who couldn’t be alone. But he didn’t exactly care about that. It bothered him in a far-away way. It bothered him in the way he was concerned about the devastation the war was causing to the American landscape and her people. It was a tragedy, but far enough away that he could ignore it. Mostly ignore it. Now he was thinking about it again. He forced it from his mind, letting his eyes glaze over and his mind drift.</p><p>The bed was so comfortable. The sheets were so soft, and they smelled so good.</p><p>It was heavenly.</p><p>“Uh, do you want the TV on? Or can I turn it off. It’s kind of a distraction. Maybe you want a distraction?”</p><p>Barnes had a nice voice. He was asking a question, but Steve didn’t care either way. He’d gotten quite used to not having a say in what went on around him. It felt polite to respond, though. “Mm.”</p><p>A moment, and the sound of the news program stopped. All Steve could hear was the rustle of heavy fabric, a deep breath, a noiseless mutter Steve couldn’t care less about deciphering. Then the mattress shifted and he figured Barnes was lying next to him. Steve’s stomach twisted slightly. He was going to get fucked. He wondered how Barnes was going to do it. Would he just pull Steve over? Would he tell Steve to present? Did he even want to be doing this?</p><p>A large warmth hovered just above his shoulder blade. The hairs on Steve’s back seemed to be reaching up to touch what must have been Barnes’s palm. He breathed deep and let his chest lift so that Barnes’s palm lightly touched him. Steve shuddered. Gooseflesh broke out across his back. His butt tightened and his insides clenched around the fake cock inside him. The knot was just starting to deflate.</p><p>“Hey,” Barnes said, his voice still soft and quiet. “Can you look at me? Please?”</p><p>Steve sighed and shifted on the bunched-up blankets. He turned his head, pulling his arms under his body. With his fingers, he reached and grabbed the edge of a pillow and tugged it so he could rest his head on it. He focused on Barnes’s face, which was most of what he could see with the blankets all bunched up and a pillow lying near Barnes’s hip. Steve caught a glimpse of the lightly tanned skin of a broad shoulder, so he figured Barnes had to be at least shirtless.</p><p>Good God damn, but Barnes was stunningly handsome, Steve thought. Each time he’d seen him, he’d thought that, but this close up? Feeling his heat this way? Barnes was breath-taking. All Steve wanted to do was submit and let Barnes handle everything. Barnes would be so good at it, so capable. His thighs shifted apart a little. He felt a rush of slick as the knot deflated some more. The twisting heat inside him was banked for now, but it was going to roar up soon enough. Steve kind of wanted to let it build before getting Barnes to fuck him. He thought idly that maybe, if he waited long enough – that is, if he could get Barnes to wait long enough – that he could come when Barnes fucked him. Just maybe he could get the timing right. If he tried hard.</p><p>Yesterday at lunch, Barnes had been polished to a shine. His hair had been slicked back, tightly controlled. It made the angles of his face stand out, like a statue. Now, with his hair looser, he looked both more approachable and even more like an unearthly creature. His blue eyes were just looking at Steve, crinkling a little at the corners, and he was smiling softly. Steve had the crazy thought that Barnes might actually like what he was looking at.</p><p>But then, Steve was a high-ranking Omega in heat. Maybe all Barnes was appreciating was the chance to get in on what Pierce had. Steve wasn’t sure if he cared about the ‘why’ as long as Barnes touched him soon.</p><p>Barnes brushed the back of his hand against Steve’s cheek, feather-soft. He lifted a bit of Steve’s hair and tucked it behind his ear. Steve trembled with want. Pierce had never touched him this tenderly. He kind of liked it. Maybe he’d be overwhelmed sooner than expected.</p><p>“So, how do you feel right now?” Barnes asked.</p><p>Steve wriggled his hips. “Emptier with every passing moment.” It felt strange to talk. He hadn’t spoken in weeks, it felt like.</p><p>Barnes frowned. “Huh?”</p><p>“The First Lady’s cock is deflating,” Steve said, aiming for a nonchalant tone. He refused to be embarrassed by what was happening to him. Heats were a normal part of every Omega’s life. Sure, society liked to make Omegas feel embarrassed about their natural bodily functions, but Sarah Rogers had raised Steve to believe that anyone who was going to need to know about his heats needed to be able to discuss them without being grossed out or disturbed.</p><p>Barnes’s eyes widened slightly. He might have hidden a smirk, but Steve couldn’t tell. “Well, while that’s happening, how about we talk, okay? Get to know one another a bit? Maybe make this a little less awkward. How’s that sound?”</p><p>Steve managed a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?” What did one talk to an attractive Alpha about when one was lying nude on a bed? What did one say to an attractive Alpha under any circumstances?</p><p>“Well, uh…”</p><p>“How about them Dodgers?”</p><p>Barnes gaped at him, then smirked a little and laughed. “I don’t, uh… Jeez, Stevie! I wasn’t prepared for that. Uh, yeah. I don’t really follow the Dodgers. Ever since they left Brooklyn, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah, they’re bums,” Steve agreed solemnly. “Do you like baseball?”</p><p>“Sure,” Barnes said. “I’ve been to a few games. I like the minor leagues better, though. Less glitz. More drama.”</p><p>“Sure,” Steve echoed. “I could only see the games on TV. So, no minors for me.”</p><p>“No one to take you, I guess?”</p><p>“Only my ma. She worked.” Steve swallowed hard. He hadn’t been prepared to think about his mother right then. He felt a wave of cold loneliness wash over him. It muted the burning attraction to Barnes that he was feeling.</p><p>“Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?”</p><p>Steve closed his eyes tight and buried his face in the pillow. He shook his head but couldn’t speak.</p><p>“I’m sorry. Can I call someone? Should I get you something?”</p><p>Steve waved a hand blindly in Barnes’s direction. “No,” he managed. “I’m fine. I just… she’s… she’s not, uh… she passed away.” He gulped, forcing down his grief. It was so much easier to say ‘passed’ than ‘dead.’</p><p>“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Barnes said. He sounded sincere. Steve risked a glance. He looked sincere.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Steve said. “Not your fault.”</p><p>“I sure hope not,” Barnes muttered. He sighed and shifted his position. Steve got a brief eyeful of a muscular chest, smooth pectorals and so much more skin. His mouth watered. He wanted suddenly to lick something warm and smooth.</p><p>“You smell good,” Steve heard himself say. It was like his mouth just opened and let the words fall out with no regard to what was polite or even sane.</p><p>Barnes definitely flushed with pleasure. Even his eyes seemed to sparkle. “Thank you. I, uh, I’m glad you think so. I meant to say, you smell better than good. I’ve never smelled anyone like you before. I, uh, wasn’t sure what to expect when I got told what I was going to be doing, but I knew I’d like being here with you because I already knew you smelled fantastic – oh, my God,” Barnes said, turning his own face into the covers. “This is so embarrassing. I swear I’m usually smoother than this.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said. “I’m a sure thing.” He didn’t even have the right to entertain saying ‘no.’</p><p>Barnes laughed, face still in the covers, his definitely bare shoulders shaking with mirth. “I know,” he said, lifting his head, his face red with humor. “So am I. I mean, not that you’d necessarily pick me over the president or anything – “</p><p>“No,” Steve interrupted, his tone deadpan, “of course not. Who would do that?”</p><p>Barnes shot him a look, his good humor gone. “Careful who you say that to.”</p><p>Steve gulped. He’d messed up. He’d taken a chance, relaxed and bantered. He’d <em>flirted</em>. “Of course, sir,” Steve said. “Col. Barnes, sir. I meant no disrespect. I only meant, uh… to be nice? To you?” He closed his eyes in discomfort. The dildo chose that moment to deflate enough that it slid out of Steve’s body with a barely-noticeable plopping sound.</p><p>“No, Stevie, I didn’t mean,” Barnes said, his hand darting out to rest on Steve’s arm. “Shit. I screwed up. Things were going so well, and I screwed it up. I’m sorry. I’ve upset you and that’s the last thing I wanted to do.”</p><p>Steve shrugged off the apology. “It’s fine.”</p><p>“It’s not fine.” Barnes sighed heavily. “Stevie, this right here, between us? Needs to be a safe space. I know that’s not an idea that gets a lot of respect anymore, but this needs to be. You need to be able to tell me what you want, what you need, so that I can give that to you. Help you. Be what you need. I know I’m not your real Alpha, but I’m here at his invitation and I want to do the best job I can.”</p><p>“I know,” Steve said. He tried a smile. It felt small. “The thing fell out. The dildo, I mean. I think I should wash it.”</p><p>Barnes leaned up on his elbows and looked at Steve’s ass. Steve twisted around, trying to see what Barnes could see. Barnes stared a moment, then shook his head and looked determined. “I’ll take care of that,” he said, getting to his knees. “Uh, did you want me to bring it back? We can just keep using that, if you want.”</p><p>Steve stretched his arms and shoulders while Barnes picked up the dildo and stood up. “Up to you,” he said. He wasn’t going to make Barnes do anything he didn’t want to do. He listened while Barnes quickly washed the dildo in the bathroom sink.</p><p>“Hey, Stevie, did Miss Natasha happen to leave the control button for this?”</p><p>Steve frowned. He hadn’t noticed, but then he saw the controller on the nightstand. He shared the info with Barnes, then rolled over onto his back. The bunched-up covers pushed his hips into the air. His legs splayed comfortably, his slick tacky between his legs. He stretched and twisted himself, luxuriating on the thick mattress and the heavenly smell that was filling the room. He started to smile.</p><p>“Damn, you’re a beautiful girl, Stevie,” Barnes said softly.</p><p>Steve, staring up at the ceiling, couldn’t help but frown and twist his lips. “Thank you,” he said politely.</p><p>“Whoa,” Barnes said, a little louder. “What did I say wrong now?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Steve said. He rolled onto his side to face Barnes and nearly swallowed his tongue.</p><p>Barnes was naked. He’d apparently been naked the whole entire time. All that glorious skin stretched smooth and taut over all those muscles. He had dark hair on his chest, not a lot, and it trailed down the center line of his abdomen straight down to his cock. Straight down to his gorgeous cock. His thick cock that was pointing right at Steve. He could see the glistening tip, the retreating foreskin, the shaft with the prominent veins that ran straight back to the base where Steve could see the beginnings of a knot. The hair there was trimmed down to a neat little bush at the top. It was almost like a little mustache. A little whimsy. It made Steve smile.</p><p>“Stevie,” Barnes said softly, “I should have asked. I would have asked earlier, but I think I’m forgetting all my manners. Stevie, would you like me to call you a girl or a boy?”</p><p>Steve froze for one long moment. He couldn’t think. At the same time, it seemed like his thoughts were racing. How should he respond? Was this a trap? He could run into his room. He could scream for help. He could say he was a girl, like the president said. He could tell the truth.</p><p>“Uh, I, uh.”</p><p>Barnes ducked his head a little. “I think it’s kind of stupid to assume that just because a person can get pregnant and give birth that they feel like a girl inside. It isn’t pregnancy that makes a woman a woman. After all, lots of Betas don’t have kids. That doesn’t make them Alphas. And if I fuck you and you’re a boy, that doesn’t make me any more or less of an Alpha than if I fuck you and you’re a girl. I’m an Alpha. You’re an Omega. That’s what matters. Right now, anyway, that’s pretty much all that matters.”</p><p>Steve licked his lips. He tried hard to judge if Barnes were being sincere or not. Could he trust him? He smelled like he could trust him. He wanted to trust him. Barnes was the handsomest Alpha Steve had ever seen in person and he certainly was the nicest one so far. He could have fucked Steve twice over by now and instead he was treating Steve like he was a person. A real person. A real person who mattered.</p><p>“I always thought of myself as a boy, growing up,” Steve said carefully, knowing he could talk his way around that if he had to.</p><p>Barnes nodded solemnly. “And should I keep calling you ‘Stevie’ or…?”</p><p>“My friends used to just call me ‘Steve.’ My ma named me Steven, so…” He glanced down and saw Bucky’s erection just bobbing there, undisturbed and unremarked upon, like it wasn’t a tyrant demanding to be serviced immediately.</p><p>Barnes smiled. “My friends call me ‘Bucky.’ It’s a childhood nickname. It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”</p><p>Something melted in Steve’s chest at the words. “It’s real nice to meet you, too, Bucky.”</p><p>Bucky discovered the coffee pot still had hot coffee in it, so he poured himself a mug, doctored it with cream and sugar, and carefully got onto the bed next to Steve, bringing up the pastry basket with him. “You should have something to eat and drink,” he said. “You need your energy.”</p><p>They each had pastry and shared a second mug of coffee. They didn’t make much conversation beyond favorite breakfast foods which led to a discussion of Steve’s childhood allergies to tropical fruit, cut grass and animal dander, and the one time Bucky got stung by a hornet, swelled up and had to be rushed to the ER. By the time Steve had finished off the last of the creamy coffee he was definitely feeling on edge again.</p><p>Unable to get comfortable, he curled up in the center of the bed and kicked at the sheets.</p><p>“Hang on,” Bucky said, “let me move all this.” He put the basket onto the floor and the mug on the nightstand. “Here we go.” Bucky stretched out and pulled Steve into his arms.</p><p>The shock of feeling Bucky’s arms around his bare body, the heat from Bucky’s skin, the sudden wave of comforting scent that filled his nose and mouth made Steve shudder and then relax. He grabbed at Bucky’s waist and then stared at the sight of his open hand stroking along Bucky’s stomach, just rubbing up and down, enjoying the feel. He barely noticed Bucky’s hand doing the same thing along Steve’s back, but he was definitely liking something. His cocklet had swollen again and was pushing into Bucky’s upper thigh. It was so close to Bucky’s erection, which hadn’t settled down much at all while they ate.</p><p>Steve stretched his legs along Bucky’s legs, bending his knee to better press his slick and gaping hole against Bucky’s surprisingly muscled thigh. He felt a wave of safety rush through him. He felt protected. He turned his head to look up at Bucky’s face.</p><p>Bucky was smiling at him.</p><p>Then Bucky was pulling him up, moving his head, fitting his mouth to Steve’s.</p><p>Steve gasped into Bucky’s mouth. He tried to get closer. He wriggled and Bucky helped him slide up on top of him. His thigh brushed against Bucky’s erect cock and it felt like it could burn him if he lingered there. He stretched his legs wide, balancing his hands on Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s cock bounced up against his ass. Bucky urged Steve’s body to move up a little, down a little, and then Bucky’s cock was pushing up against the slick folds around Steve’s vagina. He wasn’t pushing in. He was just resting there, being polite.</p><p>And they were still kissing.</p><p>Steve braced his hands on Bucky’s chest, one hand on each pectoral. Recognizing the strength apparent in Bucky’s body made him wetter. He pushed up and stared down into Bucky’s face. He hovered there with his lips almost touching Bucky’s, their open mouths breathing into each other. Then Bucky shoved a hand into Steve’s hair, cradling his head, and they were fiercely kissing again.</p><p>Steve spared a tiny moment to think that he should kiss Bucky the way he kissed Pierce, by opening his mouth and letting the Alpha do what he liked, but he enjoyed the way he and Bucky played with each other, the way their tongues seemed to chase each other, the way Bucky smiled when their mouths broke apart, and the way he groaned when they moved together again. He decided he liked kissing Bucky’s way better.</p><p>Moments passed and then Steve was on his back and Bucky was leaning over him, pressing down on him, a delicious weight making him feel soft and small and protected.</p><p>“I want to,” Bucky said, panting, as he kissed along Steve’s cheek to his ear. “I want to be inside you,” he went on. “Please let me. Please tell me you want me.”</p><p>“Hell, Bucky,” Steve replied. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”</p><p>Bucky stopped, lifted his head and stared at Steve who grinned back at him. He seemed to realize Steve was making a joke, making things easier, so he nipped at the tip of Steve’s nose before sinking back into another kiss. One large, warm hand caressed Steve’s flank, the thumb flicking gently at his nipple. Steve gasped at that, twisting his head away from Bucky’s mouth, so Bucky bent down to suck and lick at Steve’s breast and at that sensation Steve keened and clutched Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him even closer.</p><p>Steve moved wildly after that, making sounds he’d never heard before, spreading his own legs apart and lifting his hips up toward Bucky. “Please, oh-oh, please,” Steve begged. He didn’t remember feeling this agony with Pierce or Natasha, though it wasn’t agony, exactly, it was exquisite. Bucky moved his cock into position, grit his teeth and said to stop him if he hurt him, pressed the tip of his cock into Steve’s swollen hole, moved and kept moving inside him, filling him up, pressing against all the tender places inside him. Steve understood suddenly why they called it a ‘heat.’</p><p>He dug his nails into Bucky’s shoulders, scratched across his sides, pulled him closer with his legs and feet and begged with urgent cries to knot him, knot him, knot him right now – and Bucky shuddered, his face buried in Steve’s neck, mouth open, as his knot swelled fast and he began to come and come. Steve shuddered in return, his own body responding with undulating movements like it was milking Bucky’s cock, increasing their mutual satisfaction and sense of success. Bucky reached a hand down to cup Steve’s buttock. He gently squeezed the muscle. He lifted his head and smiled at Steve.</p><p>Steve smiled back.</p><p>They looked into each other’s eyes, each aware of the continuing mutual orgasm, the smaller waves that fed off each other’s smaller movements. Bucky thrust a little. Steve clenched a little. Another thrust and another clench and then another wave of gasping pleasure as Steve suddenly came again and triggered another release from Bucky’s cock.</p><p>After, Bucky panted and rested his forehead on Steve’s chest. “Holy fuck,” he said. “It’s never felt like this.”</p><p>Steve’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. “That bad, huh?” He laughed as Bucky lightly smacked his ass where he had been caressing it. “Oh!”</p><p>Bucky grinned salaciously. “You like that, huh? Should I do it some more?”</p><p>“Uhh… maybe?”</p><p>“Later. Definitely.” Bucky licked at Steve’s other nipple. “I can’t get over how good your skin tastes.”</p><p>“Really? My skin?”</p><p>Bucky winked at him. “Well, I was going to taste your slick, but somebody got over-eager, so…”</p><p>“Wait, you’re blaming me?”</p><p>“No!” Bucky laughed. “I meant…” He moved his hips, pressing his knot tighter into Steve’s hole. “Some other part of me with a mind of its own.”</p><p>Steve stroked along Bucky’s shoulders and then his chest. “Don’t be mad. That part’s been really patient. Uh, you, uh, have a really nice body. I, uh, really like it.” He felt his face burn hot with embarrassment.</p><p>Bucky smiled softly. “Thank you, Steve.” He kissed along Steve’s clavicle and said, still soft and sweet and sincere, “I really like your body, too.”</p><p>“Eh, I’m a little scrawny,” he said, shrugging. “I’ve kind of always been scrawny.”</p><p>“Maybe so,” Bucky allowed. “But I’ve seen you a couple times since I got here and you’re starting to fill out. It’s nice. Besides, I kind of like you this size. Makes me feel…” He looked bashful. “Makes me feel more like an Alpha. Like I’m stronger than I am. Like I could, I don’t know, protect you. It’s nice.”</p><p>Steve wanted to laugh, Bucky was being so adorable, but he didn’t want to risk hurting Bucky’s feelings. “I like the idea of you protecting me,” he said. He’d meant to be teasing but as he said the words, he knew they were true. “I don’t… it’s odd, but I don’t…” He shook his head.</p><p>Bucky looked curious. “You don’t what?”</p><p>Strong emotion kept his voice almost inaudible. “I don’t feel like anyone else protects me.”</p><p>Bucky blinked at him a moment. “Oh, honey,” he said, then kissed Steve’s mouth and thrust them both into a third orgasm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The August Heat Continues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 1 of Steve's heat continues.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Bucky’s knot deflated enough for him to safely withdraw it, more than an hour had gone by. Steve was in bliss. He couldn’t stand, but Bucky thought a shower would revive them both, so he carried Steve into Pierce’s bathroom where he stopped, stunned again by the sight of the largest, most opulent bathroom he’d ever seen. His entire bathroom at his apartment would fit inside Pierce’s shower. Two walls were just glass. A wide bench took up one wall. There was a rain shower in the center above the drain and at least seven spigots pointing inward. He wasn’t sure which knobs controlled which spigots, but he was willing to try them all to find out. With Steve in his arms like a sleepy child, Bucky just started randomly turning knobs and controls. In a few moments, he had them both in a hot, steamy shower, sitting on the wide, tiled ledge with Steve on his lap.</p>
<p>Steve had been a dream. Responsive, sweet and sassy, he was exactly the sort of Omega Bucky had always fancied. Bucky hadn’t expected to come so many times on a single knot, but with Steve, each climax seemed imperative and inevitable. He’d helped Omegas through heats before, and they were all Omegas he’d cared deeply for. One he had even loved enough to propose marriage to, though thankfully, in retrospect, he had turned Bucky down. So Bucky had known what to expect. He’d known Steve would need no foreplay to get slick, no sweet words or seduction. Steve was, as he’d said, a sure thing. Still, it felt so good to seduce Steve, to play with him, tease him a little, give in a little more. Steve, now slippery all over and warm with the steam, had writhed and shuddered in his arms, stretched around him, granted him the comfort and security of his body. The actions had been the same as any Omega. But why was it so much better with Steve than with anyone else?</p>
<p>Was it because he’d been teased with Steve’s scent every other week or so for the past couple of months? Seen his exquisite body covered over in almost nothing? Was it because he hadn’t gotten laid in over a year? Was this just a release of built-up tension?</p>
<p>Steve’s body was lithe and strong and temptingly slick and pink in the steam. He licked along Bucky’s neck. “Come on,” Steve urged. “I need it, Bucky. Fuck me again?”</p>
<p>“Jeez,” Bucky said with a laugh. “You’re insatiable. I love it.”</p>
<p>It took a single stroke of Steve’s bold hands for Bucky to realize he was definitely hard enough to fuck. It took no time at all for Steve to figure out how to lift up his hips and then squat down across Bucky’s lap, using his weight to take Bucky’s cock inside his body. Steve smiled with deep satisfaction. He put his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and held on.</p>
<p>“I like this,” Steve said. “I like this a lot.”</p>
<p>“Me, too.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t have the leverage to really work Bucky’s cock, but it felt good to watch Steve chase his own pleasure. Bucky helped him by massaging his hips and ass, rubbing a thumb over Steve’s nipples, kissing Steve’s jaw and throat. He kept glancing down at Steve’s cocklet. It was beautiful, perfectly proportioned, and so dusky pink and wet with slick it looked to Bucky like candy. He wanted it in his mouth and resolved to get that accomplished at the next opportunity.</p>
<p>Then Steve was mewling, shaking, slamming his hips down onto Bucky’s cock. “That’s it,” Bucky said. “That’s it. Come on me, come on my cock. Get it, Steve. There you are!”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes were closed as he came. A little frown appeared on his face. “I wanted your knot,” he said. And then he pouted.</p>
<p>“You’re adorable.” Bucky kissed his pouty mouth.</p>
<p>They stayed in the shower for another thirty minutes. After climbing off Bucky’s lap, Steve sat on the tiled shower bench and rested. Bucky started washing himself. He’d smoothed a soapy loofah across his chest and down his arms before he realized Steve was staring at him. Staring at him with one leg up on the bench next to him and his hands, well. One hand was caressing his cocklet and the other was three fingers deep into his glistening, wet hole. Steve gasped when he saw Bucky watching him, saw Bucky take his cock in his own hand and give it a stroke. Steve gasped and then his cocklet spurted a little.</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Bucky said. He’d never seen that happen outside of porn. He tossed the soapy loofah aside and knelt in front of Steve. Before either one realized what was happening, Bucky’s mouth was on Steve’s cocklet, sucking and sucking and licking. He had one hand stripping his own cock and the other firmly on Steve’s hip. He felt Steve’s hands in his wet hair, slowly caressing his scalp and his ears and down his neck.</p>
<p>Steve tasted better than he smelled. Their pheromones seemed to multiply in the steam, penetrating every pore. Bucky was hard and harder than he’d ever been, like he’d never come at all. Then Steve was shaking, his hands tight on Bucky’s shoulders, his hole clenching around Bucky’s tongue. Bucky straightened up, wiped off his face, and then pulled Steve onto his knees in the center of the shower, the water shooting down at them from all directions, hot and steamy and thunderous in their ears, and he fucked him again until they came and came.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>They had about a half hour to go until lunch arrived when Bucky fucked into Steve for what would probably be their last time that day. Steve was so easy to satisfy, Bucky thought. What he was doing, what came naturally to him to do, seemed to be exactly what Steve wanted to happen. The sex was instinctual, incredible, like they’d planned it all in advance or rehearsed it a thousand times, but it was new and satisfying and each time made Bucky feel like he could just keep going forever.</p>
<p>He had Steve on his back, legs spread, arms over his head, gasping out another orgasm as his knot swelled. For a strange moment, he thought his knot might be bigger than normal. It felt bigger, anyway. He settled his hips onto Steve’s and they smiled into each other’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Feel good?”</p>
<p>“Are you asking me or telling me?”</p>
<p>Bucky chuckled. “Brat.” Fond. This was what fondness felt like, he thought. He smiled and dropped another kiss on Steve’s clavicle. “Yeah. I’m telling you. I feel good.”</p>
<p>Steve shifted his hips. “You feel better than good.”</p>
<p>Bucky relaxed more, letting his knot settle, not trying to keep it going like it had been all morning. They didn’t have time to play. Lunch would be here and then the afternoon shift would start.</p>
<p>“You’ll be back tomorrow? Will it be you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Bucky promised. “It will be me.”</p>
<p>“And there won’t be any, uh, consequences, right?”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “I got my shot this morning. Don’t worry.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. “I’m not worried for me.”</p>
<p>Bucky leaned down to kiss him again when the bedroom door opened. Immediately irritated, Bucky glared at the intruder and growled, feeling his shoulders and arms tense up.</p>
<p>It was Commander Rumlow. Of course, it fucking was.</p>
<p>Dressed casually in a heavy black jacket, black t-shirt and jeans, Rumlow held the door open while an Alpha in a White House servant uniform pushed in a rolling cart full of covered platters of food. He leaned against the open door and smiled at the bed, seemingly unperturbed at Bucky’s annoyance.</p>
<p>“How’s it been going, Barnes?” Rumlow said.</p>
<p>“Are you through with breakfast, sir?” the servant asked.</p>
<p>“He’s through with it,” Rumlow replied. “Leave any juice, though. I’m going to need to replenish my electrolytes.” Rumlow grinned and then winked at Bucky. “You need a drink, buddy? I can toss you one. I can see you’re kind of <em>tied up</em> at the moment.” He laughed at his joke.</p>
<p>Bucky was still knot-deep in Steve so he could feel that the way Steve tensed around him wasn’t because of sexual pleasure. He risked a glance at him and wasn’t happy to see Steve’s expression had closed off. Bucky felt the urge to thrust but held off. The last thing he wanted to do was fuck in front of Rumlow. He didn’t want to fuck in front of anyone, but especially not Rumlow. There was just something about that guy that set his teeth on edge.</p>
<p>The servant had stacked up the trash onto the breakfast trolley. He was now in the bathroom. Bucky could hear him gathering towels and wiping down the mirrors and glass.</p>
<p>“Do you mind, Commander?” Bucky said.</p>
<p>“Why? Does this bother you?” Rumlow’s grin broadened. “Don’t like an audience? Too bad. Stevie does. Ain’t that right, Stevie?” He laughed.</p>
<p>Bucky saw Steve turn his head away from Rumlow. A muscle jumped in Steve’s cheek.</p>
<p>The servant came out from the bathroom with an armful of wet towels. “Will you need anything else, sirs?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Nah,” Rumlow said. “Take the trash and go.”</p>
<p>The servant glanced at Bucky, dumped everything on the breakfast trolley and pushed it all back out the door. Rumlow shoved the door closed after him. Like Bucky, he worn casual clothes. He let his jacket slip off his shoulders and dropped it onto an armchair by the fireplace. He lifted the lid on the main platter of food to reveal sandwiches. He shrugged and grabbed one, biting into it. “Barnes. You want one?”</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head. He could feel his knot deflating, a little faster than normal, probably because they’d been interrupted. “You’re early,” he managed to say calmly. “Is there a problem or something?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Rumlow said. He took another bite of his sandwich. “It’s lunch time. Thought I’d eat before getting started with her. Gotta keep my strength up. How is she, by the way? Did you fuck her loose or will she still tighten up for me?”</p>
<p>He wanted to answer Rumlow with a punch to the jaw. “You’re supposed to be here <em>after</em> lunch. We’re not supposed to overlap.” That had been carefully explained to him and that schedule had made sense. When an Omega was in heat, it wasn’t smart for more than one Alpha to be in the room. That morning, he’d waited until Pierce had left his suite before going inside it. Rumlow was supposed to wait for Bucky to leave. The last thing anyone wanted was a fight to break out over the President’s Omega involving two Alphas who were not the president.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to fight me,” Rumlow said. “You’re smarter than that. You and I both know there’s no point to it. You get to fuck her, I get to fuck her, and neither one of us has to put up with her shit after. It’s the perfect gig.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“I sure think so,” Rumlow said. He’d finished off his sandwich and was kicking off his shoes. “I’ve been looking forward to fucking this hot tramp for months. I’m not going to screw this up by wasting my energy fighting you when I’m going to get the chance to knot her all afternoon.” He slapped a hand on the breeding bench.</p>
<p>“For months?” Bucky’s knot had deflated enough that he could pull out of Steve if he wanted. He didn’t want. He faked a groan. Steve glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Bucky tried to send him a psychic message and pressed Steve’s hand into his hip. It took a moment, but then Steve groaned and shifted his hips.</p>
<p>“Damn.” Rumlow pulled off his shirt and tossed it on top of his jacket. “She sounds like she’s gagging for it.”</p>
<p>He couldn’t stay knotted all day, though. After another few minutes, softly stroking Steve’s hips and then giving him a little pat, Bucky withdrew. He wiped his cock off on the bedsheet and turned away from Rumlow to get off the bed. Steve immediately curled into a ball.</p>
<p>Bucky picked up his briefs and stepped into them as smoothly as he could. When he stood up, he automatically adjusted himself and then saw that Rumlow was checking him out.</p>
<p>“Nice,” Rumlow said with an appreciative leer. “I can see why she looks fucked out.” Then Rumlow unzipped his jeans, pushed them over his hips. He wasn’t wearing underwear. He just reached in, pulled out his cock and held it out. “Too bad for her she’s got to take this one next.”</p>
<p>Rumlow was huge. Easily another inch longer than Bucky, maybe thicker, too. His cock hung like a fat snake over his hand. Bucky swallowed hard. Steve wasn’t… he couldn’t… Bucky didn’t want to think about it. He put his own jeans on and grabbed his shirt. Shit. He was being cowardly. He could just leave and not think about Rumlow’s dick, but Steve not only had to think about it, he had to endure being fucked by it. Bucky put on his shoes, using the action to hide his face.</p>
<p>Bucky heard Rumlow crack open a bottle of water and toss it onto the bed. “Hydrate yourself. Or don’t. You get a cramp, I’m still going to fuck you,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom.</p>
<p>Steve slowly reached over and grabbed the water bottle. Bucky really didn’t want to leave, but he had to. He forced himself to stand up. Everything in him was screaming at him to fight Rumlow, to protect Steve. But he couldn’t. He had other priorities. Bigger priorities. No matter how he felt right then, he had to play the long game. Everything depended on it.</p>
<p>Rumlow was in the bathroom, pissing into the toilet with the door open. Bucky took a deep breath and knelt onto the bed. He leaned over to whisper in Steve’s ear, “You’ll be okay, Steve. And I’ll be back tomorrow. And the day after. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t stay.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. He looked resigned, determined. Miserable. Bucky dropped a kiss on Steve’s cheekbone, grabbed his jacket and walked out. There was a meeting he had to get to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Do I write chapters that end up roughly the same length? No. No, I do not.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The August Heat - Rumlow's Turn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's the afternoon of the first full day and Rumlow's alone with Steve.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was almost a swallow left in the bottle by the time Rumlow came back from the bathroom. Steve lay still, wondering if maybe Rumlow would be kind. Maybe he was the sort of brutish fellow who was tender and sweet behind closed doors. Maybe he was hiding a heart of gold?</p>
<p>“Shake your ass, sweetheart. You’re going to douche and get that fucker’s come out. I ain’t doing sloppy seconds after that guy.”</p>
<p>So, maybe not tender and sweet. Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The morning with Bucky had been so satisfying, but he knew he was going to need more. Did he really want it with Rumlow, though? He sat upright and slid off the mattress. He felt a head rush, so he grabbed hold of the bed support until he caught his balance. In his periphery, Rumlow was just standing there, looking impatient and very naked. When had he gotten naked? Steve didn’t remember that.</p>
<p>“You need help or something?”</p>
<p>Steve took a hesitant step forward and then Rumlow just grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him into the air. In a blur of motion, Steve was in the bathroom and sitting on the fancy toilet. He blinked, disoriented, as Rumlow leaned over him, doing something to the bidet controls. A moment later, Steve jumped. A jet of cold water shot up from the bowl directly into his asshole. Rumlow laid a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Just stay put.”</p>
<p>Steve’s body adjusted slowly to the icy temperature. It didn’t help that the spray steadily moved forward along his body, pulsing against his taint and then straight up into his vagina. A secondary spray with a lower water pressure started rinsing his phallus and the rest of him between his legs. The water was cold, and he wanted to shrink away from it, but Rumlow kept his hands on Steve’s shoulders like he knew it was uncomfortable and preferred it that way.</p>
<p>After at least a minute, Rumlow began to ease up, but the cold water kept spraying, pulsing, moving from front to back to front again, burrowing up into Steve’s body. Then the water shut off and the bidet blew warm air onto his wet skin. Steve started to relax. The warm air was kind of nice.</p>
<p>“That’s enough,” Rumlow said. He grabbed hold of Steve’s neck and pulled, guiding him back into the bedroom, barely giving him the chance to get to his feet. He pushed Steve toward the bed. “Go present,” he said. “I want to see you.”</p>
<p>Steve climbed back onto the mattress and slowly moved to the center of the bed. He trembled and tried to hide it, not knowing how Rumlow would react to a show of weakness. He put his head on a pillow, tipped up his hips, spread his thighs, and waited.</p>
<p>Rumlow sat in one of the armchairs by the fire. After a long moment, he grumbled, “That the best you can do?”</p>
<p>Steve turned his head to try to see Rumlow, but he’d moved the chair just out of sight. What more could Rumlow want, an engraved invitation? He felt the air conditioner cycle on, the cool air blowing soft against his skin, drying what little slick had made a reappearance.</p>
<p>Rumlow made a grunting noise, then stood up. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll make you. Don’t know why no one teaches proper positions anymore. It’s a disgrace. This country used to stand for something.” He moved closer and pulled the pillow out from under Steve’s head and then shoved the sheets onto the floor. “Lose all this,” he said. “Cheek to the ground, always look in the Alpha’s direction. Keep your eyes on me unless I’m fucking you, get it?” He shoved Steve down further. “Shoulders on the ground, too. Arms out to the sides. No bracing. Hips up higher. Rest your weight on your shoulders and face. That’s it,” he said, abruptly hoisting Steve’s hips with his hands. “Spread your thighs. I shouldn’t have to touch you with anything but my dick if I don’t want to. Point your feet out. Don’t interfere with my getting your pussy. Complete submission. There you go. Now relax. This is for your benefit, after all. It’s your heat.”</p>
<p>Steve’s heart thudded in his chest. He didn’t feel comfortable at all, but he did feel submissive and exposed, a little foolish, and grateful no one could see him like this. He was grateful Bucky couldn’t see him like this.</p>
<p>“We’ll get pictures later,” Rumlow promised, crawling into position on the mattress.</p>
<p>Steve wanted to cry. He heard the sound of skin on skin, and Rumlow grunting, then hands on his buttocks spreading his cheeks apart.</p>
<p>“Huh. Your asshole doesn’t look puffy at all. Didn’t he fuck you?”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t know how to answer that. He must have made some expression, because Rumlow just chuckled darkly. “Oh, you mean no one’s fucked your ass yet? I get to be the first?” He ran a dry finger down the crease of Steve’s ass to his hole and tapped. “I’m going to tear you apart.” He leaned forward over Steve’s body and said, in a perfectly ordinary voice, “You’re going to beg me for it.”</p>
<p>Steve compressed his lips as if he could seal his mouth shut. He was never going to beg Rumlow, not for sex, not even in the throes of his heat.</p>
<p>Then Rumlow bumped the tip of his cock against Steve’s damp vagina. “Here we go,” he said, and pushed in.</p>
<p>At first, Steve wanted to crawl away, call for help, cower, but after the third or fourth deep penetrating thrust, something inside him opened up, just like it had with Pierce, and he felt a lassitude infuse him. Rumlow kept up a running commentary that Steve stopped paying attention to. He just stayed in the position Rumlow put him in, legs wide, head down, hips up, and let Rumlow do what he wanted.</p>
<p>The first knot didn’t take long to pop. Rumlow groaned loudly as he settled his knot into place. He squeezed the globes of Steve’s ass, then slapped them, one after the other, seemingly enjoying the flinches that resulted. When the second wave of his orgasm crested, Rumlow grabbed Steve’s hips and started rotating them, working his own cock by adjusting the way Steve’s body clenched onto it.</p>
<p>“Move like this,” he said, exaggerating the rotation. “Make it better for me.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t see how he could manage it without using his hands to brace himself, to give himself leverage, but when he pulled his hands together to try, Rumlow barked, “Stop it! Hands to your sides!” He reached around Steve’s torso and grabbed hold of one breast, focusing on the nipple. He pinched it hard. “You do it right, you get this,” he said, pinching and twisting the nipple. Then he slid his hand down to Steve’s cocklet, taking it easily in the palm of his hand, gripping the head of it between a finger and thumb. “You do it wrong, you get this,” he said, and pinched the tip of Steve’s cocklet.</p>
<p>Steve shouted in pain and writhed.</p>
<p>“That’s what I want,” Rumlow said, returning his hands to Steve’s hips. “Keep that up – that’s it – that’s it – ahh!”</p>
<p>Rumlow’s come was making Steve’s channel even more slick. Steve started feeling dizzy as things got fuzzy around him. Rumlow wasn’t that bad. He had a big cock, bigger than Bucky’s, definitely bigger than Pierce’s, and it might have been hitting a deep interior part that Steve wasn’t sure wanted to be hit quite like that, but hey. He was being fucked by a ruggedly handsome (but not beautiful, not beautiful like Bucky) and strong Alpha with a thick knot, a really thick knot, that was stretching his pussy open wide (almost too wide, maybe). Then Rumlow was pinching both of Steve’s nipples and squeezing his breasts tight and – no – not breasts – the Alpha was calling them Steve’s tits, praising the curve of Steve’s tits, talking about them filling up with milk and Steve’s body swelling with child and how spectacular it would be to fuck Steve when he was pregnant because he’d be so much more responsive – and Steve was shuddering with pleasure.</p>
<p>Over the next two hours, Rumlow fucked Steve open three more times. Each time, once his knot deflated enough, he pulled out of Steve and collapsed on the bed beside him. He’d stroke his cock and look at Steve’s body, still in position. “Just stay there,” he’d say. “Wait for my cock.” Then he’d get back up and push back in.</p>
<p>He’d found the First Lady’s dildo in the bathroom, and by that fourth penetration, had started using it to tease open Steve’s asshole. Steve was too exhausted to really care or fight back, so Rumlow didn’t have much trouble stretching and working Steve’s rim, using his own slick to ease the way, fitting in the dildo about an inch, then two and three and then he was fucking Steve in both holes, and when he clicked the controller to set off the dildo’s knotting function, Steve screamed and started begging for Rumlow to stop.</p>
<p>Rumlow didn’t stop. He claimed it was the best orgasm he’d had in a long time.</p>
<p>He left the dildo in Steve’s ass, knot inflated to its highest setting, when he pulled himself out. He lay next to Steve and brushed his sweaty hair off his tear-streaked face.</p>
<p>“Aw, poor baby,” Rumlow said. “Are those tears for me? Am I just too much Alpha for you? Pity. You were taking my cock so well before. Begging for me. Gagging for me. ‘Oh, please, please,’” he mimicked Steve’s cries then leaned closer to Steve’s ear. “You wanted it so bad. Nothing will ever satisfy you like my cock. It’s the biggest, thickest pussy-wrecker you’re ever going to see. They wanted me to make a porno, you know, when I was back in school. Offered me a whole lot of money. No one could believe I was this big and could stay this hard for this long. They said it couldn’t be done. But I had plans, see, and I thought I couldn’t have that sort of thing in my background and get any sort of security clearance. So, I wore a mask. No one can tell it’s me. Hell, I’ve been at stag parties where my movie’s been shown, and no one knew it was me.”</p>
<p>Steve focused his gaze long enough to register Rumlow’s proud expression.</p>
<p>“If I’d know where I’d end up, that it wouldn’t have fucked up my chances, I would have put my own name on that movie. I would have made sequels. I’d be a star, baby.”</p>
<p>The knot in his ass started to deflate. With each drop in its diameter, Steve felt he could breathe more easily. He also started feeling something sting in a place he really didn’t want to feel a sting.</p>
<p>“And everyone would know that Crossbones was Brock Rumlow. That’s the name of the porno, in case you get curious. I’m happy to show it. Fuck,” he said with a laugh, “I gave it to Rollins a couple years ago for his birthday. He said it was like Christmas had come early.” They were quiet for a moment. Rumlow stared up at the ceiling. Steve let his eyes drift shut.</p>
<p>“Oh, Stevie,” Rumlow said suddenly. “Is that nasty knot going away on you? You should have said something.” He picked up the controller and hit another button. The knot inside Steve’s ass started re-inflating.</p>
<p>“Oh, please, no,” Steve said, his voice strangely slurred.</p>
<p>“Oh, please, yes,” Rumlow replied. “I need a nap. You stay put. Enjoy your knotted asshole.” He closed his eyes and was snoring in about a minute.</p>
<p>Tears fell from Steve’s eyes as he struggled to summon the energy to deal again with the knotting dildo. He tried to shift to accommodate the insistent stretching, but his hips were as splayed as he could get them. He tried to relax, but the fear of what the knot was doing to his butt kept surging up inside him. As Rumlow drowsed on, Steve felt his heat rising and he wanted to scream in frustration as much as in pain.</p>
<p>The heat was itching at him, re-slicking him, urging him toward the only Alpha around. Rumlow looked peaceful while sleeping, sort of harmless, but he also had muscles and looked like he could fight off anything that came around. Baseline, Rumlow was attractive. Baseline, he could fuck. Baseline, he had a super-long, super-thick cock that filled up Steve so tight he couldn’t think of anything else, including if he wanted to be filled up that much at all. His cock seemed to drive out all other thought.</p>
<p>It hadn’t been like that with Bucky. It had been like that, a little, with Pierce, but definitely not with Bucky. Bucky made him feel desired, safe, and more like himself – like his real self. Bucky made Steve think he wasn’t just fucking a cunt or an Omega or a hole. Bucky seemed to realize he was fucking Steve, and that Steve was a person, and that Steve might have desires and needs apart from mindless copulation.</p>
<p>And Bucky was so beautiful and strong and masculine. His hands were kind and strong and when he pinched Steve’s nipples, it felt good, like a little spice added to a flavorful meal instead of a mouthful of sauce all by itself. And he kissed Steve like Steve was precious. He kissed Steve <em>at</em> <em>all</em>. He spoke to Steve. They had conversations. They laughed together. Bucky looked after him, took care of him, as well as fucked him.</p>
<p>Holy Jesus how Bucky fucked him.</p>
<p>Sliding in and out and deeply thrusting and then knotting Steve and coming and coming and keeping that come inside him so it would find its way deeper inside and maybe start a baby – oh, God. A baby from the two of them would be so precious, so perfect. Steve wanted that baby.</p>
<p>Something soft was pressing up against his cocklet, his stiff little cocklet that hadn’t gotten any attention in hours. It felt good, this soft pressure, and Steve kept it up, kept rubbing, kept moving his hips in little circles and it felt so good he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop ever. If he kept going, it would happen for him, that glorious swelling feeling would happen, just like it happened with Bucky, each time with Bucky, and –</p>
<p>“Fuck, that’s hot.”</p>
<p>Rumlow was awake. Rumlow was awake and he was watching but Steve couldn’t stop. He was chasing something important and he couldn’t stop now.</p>
<p>He heard a little click and then the knotted dildo in his ass started to vibrate, sending waves of pleasure through his pelvis to his cocklet pressing against the soft mattress. He got stiffer, wetter. Rumlow put his hand on Steve’s butt and pushed it down harder.</p>
<p>“Fuck that cock,” Rumlow said. “You need it bad, don’t you, you’re burning for it, aren’t you.” Then Rumlow got to his knees. Steve heard the sound of Rumlow stroking his own cock with his other hand. “Horny little Omega, all heat-sick and fuck-sore.”</p>
<p>He slapped Steve’s ass hard, but it didn’t stop Steve’s increasingly desperate movements. He was thrusting hard now, slamming his hips into the mattress then lifting them again. The fake cock seemed to swell and gyrate on its own now, sending vibrations further throughout his body. Steve felt his slick hole gape open as if searching for something even as his asshole tried to grip the knot like it was urging the dildo to come.</p>
<p>Rumlow’s voice took on an anguished, urgent tone. “Look at that pert little ass, look at it take that knot. That little pussy all red and fucked. It wants my cock. I’m going to give it my cock.”</p>
<p>Steve cried out with complaint as Rumlow shoved his cock into Steve’s pussy, changing the rhythm Steve had found, adjusting the pressure on Steve’s cocklet. Rumlow’s hips slapped into Steve’s ass, jostling the vibrating dildo. Rumlow reached around and took hold of Steve’s nipples and pinched them, one after the other, his hips jerking into Steve, his breath hot on Steve’s neck. “Come on, come on,” Rumlow said, “fucking little Omega whore!” And then Rumlow came, jerking and spurting into Steve’s hole and he collapsed on Steve’s back, his chest wet with sweat.</p>
<p>The dildo was still vibrating.</p>
<p>“God damn, that’s hot,” Rumlow said again. “You all stuffed up and still wanting it.”</p>
<p>Steve closed his eyes with frustration. The dildo was still vibrating, he had a cock in both holes, but he couldn’t thrust. He fell further and further from his orgasm with each breath.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Rumlow showered and redressed before the valet returned to remove the lunch trolley. Steve had taken the opportunity to pull the covers up over himself, and so was unhappy that the valet made him move so he could remake the bed with fresh linen. The valet made a displeased noise at the sight of blood on the sheets, but otherwise made no mention of it. The blood had come from Steve’s asshole after Rumlow finally removed the First Lady’s dildo. The knot had not been harmless.</p>
<p>Woozy with exhaustion and still feeling his heat, Steve crawled right back into the president’s bed just as soon as the valet turned back the blankets. He pulled a spare pillow close to his chest. The valet gathered up the dirty sheets, the trash, the remainder of their lunch and put everything onto the trolley cart. Rumlow was whistling in the bathroom, ostensibly grooming himself. Steve closed his eyes.</p>
<p>He could have sworn he felt the valet pat his shoulder before he left.</p>
<p>The night passed in a blur. He had dinner at the same time as the president and first lady. They sat in the armchairs in front of the fire. He sat on the edge of the bed. His appetite had decreased, an atypical side-effect of heat. Usually, Omegas grew more ravenous so as to make up for all the physical activity. An Omega uninterested in food during a heat was considered to be extra needy and childish. Petulant.</p>
<p>After he’d eaten what he could, the First Lady handed him two large yellow pills and a glass of water. “Vitamins,” she said. “Swallow whole.”</p>
<p>He choked them back.</p>
<p>Maybe fifteen minutes later, just as he felt his need starting back up again, the world went fuzzy and dark and quiet. It was kind of nice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The August Heat - Dreamy Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The second day of Steve's August heat.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve came aware of himself the next morning, on his knees, holding onto the footboard of Pierce’s bed while Natasha pegged him with the fake dildo. He had a vague recollection of being manhandled into position, of being instructed to hold onto the bedframe and to not let go, but otherwise, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there.</p>
<p>Pierce was in the bathroom. There was some lingering steam and Steve smelled soap and cologne. The valet was in Pierce’s closet, bustling about. Natasha was just thrusting rhythmically. Steve let his head hang down between his arms.</p>
<p>There was conversation. Someone laughed. Someone asked a question. More movement. A pat on his ass. Natasha on the chair eating a muffin, wearing a long robe. Pierce in a three-piece suit, the valet dusting off his shoes. Someone else in the room. More conversation.</p>
<p>The Alphas weren’t fucking him. Something else was inside him but it wasn’t real, it wasn’t coming. Steve moaned and lifted his head. He looked at an Alpha and pleaded. He spread his legs, lifted his hips. He begged.</p>
<p>Something ruffled his hair. He dropped his head. Conversation. Noise. Movement. Air currents. The knot was out of him. His hole ached and ached. He begged for relief. His nipples scratched against the rumpled blankets beneath him. His cocklet pushed into the softness. Then there was a dry warmth between his legs. A heat. Firm. Good. So good. Protected. Cared for. He arched his back in renewed supplication.</p>
<p>The Alpha pushed into him and began to move.</p>
<p>“Oh, Steve,” a voice said later. “What happened? You’re all, uh. Bruised back here, I guess. Was this, uh, was this Pierce? Did he do this?”</p>
<p>“Alpha, please,” Steve said. “Don’t stop.”</p>
<p>“I’m not stopping, Steve. Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ve got you.”</p>
<p>“Need you. Don’t leave.”</p>
<p>“Right here, Steve. I’m right here.”</p>
<p>Steve shuddered with pleasure as a fresh knot filled and stretched him. He was pulled upright and leaned back against a warm body that smelled so good. Steve held onto the arms around him. “Mmmm,” he purred. He turned his face into the neck of the Alpha holding him. “So good.”</p>
<p>A hand stroked his nipples, his stomach, down to his cocklet. Steve cupped the hand around his cocklet and smiled. He plumped up his breast with the other hand. He gasped with delight as his nipple was toyed with. A tanned hand, strong fingers, gentle and firm and perfect.</p>
<p>Steve came again. He spurted into the Alpha’s hand. The Alpha cooed with pleasure and stroked Steve’s cocklet, smoothing the wet slick into his skin. The Alpha pumped his hips and groaned. Another wave of slick and come pulsed inside Steve. He came again in return.</p>
<p>The cycle kept repeating. Steve stretched out on his back, luxuriated in the warmth of the bed as his Alpha pounded into his tilted hips above him. Steve stared at his beautiful, handsome Alpha whose face was tortured with need and desire and then bliss. He found these things in Steve’s body, inside Steve’s hole, because Steve was beautiful and perfect and so sexy. It was the truth. The Alpha said so. The Alpha would not lie. The Alpha was all things Good and Perfect.</p>
<p>In the shower, Steve got clean and then got dirty and then got clean again. There was laughter and the scent of lavender and woodsmoke. The Alpha put his mouth on Steve’s cocklet and it was even better this time than the time before. There was more tongue and more heat and more want. Steve reached out to touch the Alpha’s cock. He stroked it, admiring the strength and beauty of the thick shaft, the curving tip, the taste of the ocean that rushed over him in a crippling wave. He climbed up onto the Alpha’s cock and slid down, down, down. He may have spurted again onto the Alpha’s stomach.</p>
<p>The Alpha’s body tasted like heaven. His nipples peaked up against Steve’s tongue. His neck, his abdominal muscles, his ass – all had different tastes that Steve discovered he really liked. The Alpha even encouraged him to rut his little cocklet into the crease between the firm globes of his muscled ass. Steve came so fast that time. And then he greedily licked up his own spend.</p>
<p>He was napping, enjoying a short break, when the door opened, and his Alpha growled. Conversation. Anger and irritation. Smug confidence.</p>
<p>Steve tried to keep his Alpha close, but he was pulled away by a different Alpha. This Alpha spared no time before spearing Steve onto his cock. Steve was whimpering from the knot when his Alpha left him.</p>
<p>This new Alpha wasn’t as satisfying. He didn’t move Steve around. He kept Steve on his knees, face down, one hand on his neck, one hand on his hip as he fucked and fucked and then the knot and he came and then the dildo. Steve couldn’t stay on his knees, though. He kept sliding forward, closing his eyes. This Alpha shouted at him, slapped at him, then finally dragged him over to the breeding bench.</p>
<p>Steve hung over the bench, his knees on the leather pads, his arms dangling, as the Alpha fucked him from a standing position. He spoke, but Steve couldn’t make sense of it. The Alpha stuck his fingers in Steve’s asshole and tugged outward. Steve whimpered. It hurt. Then another cock, a fake cock, was shoved into his asshole and Steve whimpered through the tears. Both cocks knotted. Steve couldn’t resist any longer. Why was he resisting at all? He didn’t want to resist. The Alpha needed him to submit, to actually submit, to finally submit.</p>
<p>Steve gave in completely.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The rest was a fog. He stayed bent over the bench even after the Alpha left him. A Beta came in and rubbed the small of his back. That was nice. There were food smells. Someone fed him some food. Told him to swallow it whole. The Beta? Another Alpha stepped up behind him and began to fuck him. Steve let it happen, and when the Alpha came into him, he remained still. The Alpha pet his back, his hips, and then the Beta tugged Steve into bed.</p>
<p>Morning came and Steve was curled up against Pierce. No one else was awake. Pierce’s body was warm and dry. His pajamas were light blue and silky. Steve stretched. He felt a deep ache. He rolled onto his back. Natasha was sleeping on the other side of him. She was unfairly pretty, Steve thought, not for the first time.</p>
<p>Short moments passed before the valet came in with breakfast, the curtain-opening, the television. Pierce went into the shower. Natasha ran her nails along Steve’s scalp.</p>
<p>“You feel better today, yes?” she asked him.</p>
<p>“I think so,” Steve murmured. “Ma’am.”</p>
<p>She nodded, a kind of knowing look in her eyes. “The middle day can be so difficult. So much fucking, yes? That’s all you do.”</p>
<p>He frowned. “Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t really remember much of it.</p>
<p>She reached over and pulled one eyelid down, then the other. “I think you only need a few more knots and then you’ll be done. I shall cancel your afternoon.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me? Ma’am? What?” His heart started thudding in his chest. Cancel Rumlow? That was an option?</p>
<p>“I know you are distraught,” she said, “but I am not certain Rumlow is… how shall I put this… a good <em>fit</em> for you.”</p>
<p>Steve had no response to that.</p>
<p>“I do not like how your asshole looks,” she said. “And there was blood. Blood is unnecessary during sex. Even during a heat. Eh. Maybe you liked it?” She peered at him.</p>
<p>Honestly compelled him to answer, “I didn’t like all of it. Ma’am.”</p>
<p>She smirked. “I shall cancel. Hopefully you are with baby now, yes?” She bopped the tip of his nose and scampered out of bed. There was no other word for the spring in her step, the cheery way she hugged Pierce in the doorway of the bathroom, her delight when she bit into a cruller.</p>
<p>A baby. Steve rubbed his abdomen. Maybe?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The August Heat Concludes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve's heat concludes with the expected conclusion.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah. With the way this past week has gone and the fact that the last chapter was so short, here's the next chapter right away. (If it helps, chapter 9 is the shortest one and they all get longer from here.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky couldn’t wait that morning. He hurried through his breakfast, his commute, his approach to the White House. He flashed his badge at the guard and barely acknowledged the man’s greeting. He took the main stairs two at a time, leaping the last three to get to the landing and then turn toward the president’s sitting room. He entered without knocking, knowing he was expected. He stood at the door into the bedroom and tried to catch his breath.</p>
<p>The bland-faced doctor was waiting for him. Just like the previous two days, Bucky dropped his trousers over his ass and moved his thigh over just enough to receive the contraceptive injection. It briefly stung, but Bucky didn’t care. Just like the previous two mornings, he only smelled Steve. Over and above the president’s musk, the doctor’s medicine aroma, he smelled Steve’s vanilla and lavender fragrance. He smelled like cookies. He smelled like home. Bucky wanted to crawl inside that smell and never come back out.</p>
<p>He’d been in love before. A few times, in fact. There were the three Betas and two Omegas he’d dated through school. They’d each been precious to him in some measure. The Beta he’d met in the service. She’d taught him so much. The Omega he’d wanted to marry, who’d disappointed him at the end. From holding hands to helping through heats, Bucky thought he’d been through every feeling and experience a young Alpha of reasonably good looks could get. Then there was Steve. For some reason (was it his smell? His tight little body? His huge blue eyes?) Bucky’s heart pulled toward Steve, yearned for him after he left, and leaving had been torture. He’d had to summon every ounce of discipline and inner strength he could find just to get redressed yesterday and walk out of the room to leave Steve – his sweet, responsive Steve – to the solo care of Rumlow and his monster cock.</p>
<p>He laid a hand on the doorknob. What if Steve preferred the monster cock? What if that was the reason for his delirium yesterday? What if Steve was only thinking of Rumlow while Bucky was offering to tear his own heart out if it would make Steve smile? He thought of Steve’s swollen asshole, the bruising on his hips, the flinch when Bucky had picked up the dildo and the sigh of relief when Bucky had only used the vibrating toy to gently rub against Steve’s pretty little cock and press firmly against his pubic bone. He’d intended to use it solely to heighten Steve’s pleasure, but Steve had been frightened of it, at least at first.</p>
<p>What was the truth? What could he trust? Where did the facts lie and where did the lies live?</p>
<p>He opened the door and stepped through. As in the two mornings before, Natasha had her dildo strapped onto her and was fucking Steve who had his cheek flat on the mattress, his arms spread, legs splayed – a rather pornographic version of the presentation pose. Bucky had to admit it was sexy-hot, but it also seemed off. It seemed wrong for Steve, somehow. Pierce was adjusting the way his tie fit into his vest. His valet waited with the suitcoat ready to slip onto the president’s shoulders.</p>
<p>Bucky nodded at Pierce first. “Good morning, Mr. President,” he said. “Ma’am.” He nodded at Natasha and then toward the valet who paid him no attention.</p>
<p>Natasha, beautiful and sexy and confident, was wearing a silk robe that morning, but it was open, barely clinging to her slender shoulders. She was thrusting her hips almost mindlessly, pushing and then withdrawing her cock in even movements. Her breasts, full and perfect and tipped with rose pink nipples, bounced with each movement. Natasha raised her arms above her head, making her breasts lift attractively.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Col. Barnes,” she cooed. “Such a lovely morning to be fucking, no?” She laughed at Pierce’s bland expression. “Oh, darling, such a pity you cannot stay in bed with this one, but you have country to run. You are powerful Alpha.”</p>
<p>“Yes, dear,” Pierce said. He let his valet help him into his suit. “This is the last morning, you know,” Pierce said, barely glancing at Bucky.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Bucky replied. “Mr. Coulson’s schedule was clear.”</p>
<p>“Good, good. Coulson’s a good man,” Pierce said. He shot his cuffs as the valet closed the closet door. “You’ll debrief with him after and get your next assignment.”</p>
<p>“Sir?”</p>
<p>Pierce waved a hand. “For the project. Congratulations, Col. Barnes. You’ve been selected for the final round. There’s some more medical testing or something. Scientists, you know?”</p>
<p>“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” He watched as Pierce kissed his wife, cupped and then flicked the tip of her breast, then ruffled Steve’s hair. He’d think about the final round later.</p>
<p>“Be a good Omega, Stevie,” he said. “My wife wants a baby.”</p>
<p>Bucky watched him walk out, followed by the valet.</p>
<p>Natasha unhooked herself from the harness. “It just be you today,” she said, getting to her feet. She clicked the controller in her hand and then tossed it onto the bed. Steve yelped softly. “When you are done, put Stevie into her own bed. You have the rest of the day. Enjoy yourself. See a movie or something. Go on a date. Fuck a Beta, maybe. For variety.” She stood very close to him. Her eyes were huge and vulnerable, making him think of Bambi. She leaned close to him. Her breasts brushed the edge of his jacket. He looked at her body, framed by the robe. It was a stunning image.</p>
<p>“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “You be sure to have a good day, too.”</p>
<p>She smirked at him, then left him alone. Steve just humped the bed.</p>
<p>After a moment, Bucky said, “Good morning, Steve. How’s it going?” He wasn’t sure how Steve would react. Yesterday, he hadn’t really responded to anything verbal. He’d been incredibly slick when Bucky first mounted him, almost like he’d been ratcheting up his need without any satisfaction for hours. Also, Steve had been woozier than expected, and had yawned through the first hour or so, even once as he was coming.</p>
<p>Bucky rubbed his hand over Steve’s head. He bent down to look Steve in the eye. “You in there?” he asked with a smile.</p>
<p>“I’m here, Buck,” Steve said softly. He frowned a little. “You’re dressed.”</p>
<p>“Just for now,” Bucky said. “You have a good night?”</p>
<p>Steve shrugged. “Don’t know. I think I slept through it. Don’t remember any dreams.”</p>
<p>“That’s… odd.” Bucky knew that Omegas in heat didn’t tend to sleep more than a couple of hours at a stretch. They would sleep (every body needed rest), but it was often described as more like an infant than a teenager, waking up every few hours to demand sex instead of a feeding. The way Steve had been behaving yesterday, Bucky would have expected him to have been ridden hard all day and most of the night.</p>
<p>A thought occurred to him. “Hang on a sec, Steve. Get comfy, okay?” He kissed the back of Steve’s head and darted into the bathroom. He pushed past the feeling that it was rude to snoop. This was no world for politeness. He opened the medicine cabinet first. Bingo. He found six different prescription pill bottles. He carefully read each label, committing the medications to memory: propranolol, Viagra, Propecia, Prilosec, Xenical, Cialis. In one of the drawers, he found a variety of half-squeezed-out tubes of Stay-Stiff and Hard-AF, as well as handfuls of sample packages of Steel Hard-AF, Boost, and Roman Swipes. In another, stuffed behind a stack of replacement razor blades, Bucky found a Viberect in a cloth carrying case. He went back into the bedroom and checked the nightstand drawer. Inside the drawer was a huge bottle of Heat Relief. He opened the lid and checked; it was about half-full. He scanned the usage label: <em>Uses: temporarily relieves symptoms of heat such as cramping, swelling, irritability. May cause extreme lethargy and sleepiness for 4-6 hours. For Omega use only. Use as directed. Dosage: No more than one 800mg tablet every twelve hours. Warnings: Does not prevent pregnancy. Do not use while pregnant. Do not operate heavy machinery. This product may cause a severe allergic reaction. Keep out of reach of children.</em></p>
<p>Things were making a lot more sense to him.</p>
<p>He got undressed and crawled into bed with Steve. This morning, he took his time. He stroked Steve’s body, sucked his nipples, licked up between his legs, got him off with just his hands and tongue before acceding to Steve’s laughing demands to ‘just fuck me already.’</p>
<p>A little later, he cut up a waffle, smothered it in pure maple syrup and butter and fed it, piece by piece, to Steve, enjoying the way Steve’s tongue licked his fingers clean.</p>
<p>“This is nice,” Steve said after swallowing a piece of fruit.</p>
<p>“You’re easy to care for,” Bucky replied. He maneuvered Steve to rest his back against Bucky’s chest. From there, he was able to feed Steve more easily by hand from the trolley cart of breakfast. He let Steve sip some tea, and when he was done eating, he cleaned Steve up with his tongue.</p>
<p>This morning, Bucky’s plan wasn’t so much fucking Steve as making love to him. He’d seen Steve’s abused flesh the morning before, and it was worse today. There was visible tearing and bruising along the rim of Steve’s ass as well as his pussy. Bucky gently kissed the bruises while orally pleasuring Steve, determined that Steve would never associate Bucky’s touch with pain or discomfort.</p>
<p>Soon, Steve asked for a shower. Bucky took great pleasure and pride in washing every inch of Steve with a creamy lather and then rinsing him clean again. He washed Steve’s hair twice and then conditioned it. Last, he adjusted the spigots to a pounding pulse, then maneuvered Steve so that the jets of water were massaging his back, ass and thighs. Steve groaned with real pleasure and collapsed into Bucky’s arms.</p>
<p>By the time Steve was dried off, his hair a fluffy crown, Bucky had cleaned up the president’s bedroom. “What’s going on?” Steve asked, standing nude in the doorway.</p>
<p>“We’re going into your room,” Bucky said. “You’re supposed to rest now, and I thought you’d be more comfortable in there.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>Bucky couldn’t read Steve’s tone, but he let Steve lead the way into his small bedroom. Bucky took his clothes with him and shut the door. He dropped his clothes and his heavy leather jacket against the door to slow any intruders. There were no locks, to his dismay, so he moved his boots to Steve’s other door.</p>
<p>“You put the food in here?” Steve said wonderingly, looking around at the array of foodstuffs on his dresser and side table.</p>
<p>“Well, yeah,” Bucky said. “The stuff that would keep. The doughnuts. The fruit. The bottled water. Lunch is coming in an hour. They’ll knock on the door to let us know.”</p>
<p>“But… what about Rumlow?”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled. “Oh, didn’t they tell you? Your heat is winding down. I’m supposed to let you rest. Er, I can go if you want.”</p>
<p>“No!” Steve flushed pink. “No, you can stay with me. I’ll just, uh, get into bed. There’s really no place to sit, so, you may as well join me.” He glanced at Bucky over his shoulder.</p>
<p>Bucky grinned. “Absolutely.”</p>
<p>Steve’s bed wasn’t as large as the president’s, but Bucky thought it suited the two of them just fine. He pulled Steve in close so they could cuddle. Steve’s room was windowless, so they had his one lamp turned low to provide just enough illumination that they weren’t knocking things over or tripping when they got into the bed. Bucky pushed the two flat pillows into position and leaned against them, then pulled Steve to lean on him. Steve cuddled up eagerly, resting his head against Bucky’s chest.</p>
<p>“I can hear your heart beating,” Steve said after a few minutes. “It’s kind of reassuring.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” The thought made Bucky feel unreasonably proud. He held Steve a little closer. “You like my heart, Stevie? Sorry, Steve?”</p>
<p>“Maybe.” Steve snuggled into a more comfortable position. “You can call me ‘Stevie’ sometimes. If you want to. It doesn’t sound, well, like you’re calling me a girl when you say it. Is that strange?”</p>
<p>Bucky dropped a kiss on the top of Steve’s head. “Not at all.”</p>
<p>Steve then asked questions about the world outside the White House which Bucky tried to answer in a way that didn’t make Steve upset or sad to be missing so much of it. He brought him up to date on the war, how the FSA was losing ground along the Mississippi, particularly along the tributaries in the northern Midwest of the continent. Most countries had yet to formally recognize the FSA, though Brazil, Columbia, Peru and several African and a couple Middle Eastern countries had acknowledged the new government. Others seemed to be waiting for the end of the civil war to make their choice, though most had sent diplomats to both sides, such as the UK. Those diplomats, however, were intended to assist in peaceful negotiations between the FSA and USA, even if Pierce never met with any of them personally.</p>
<p>“The First Lady takes care of all that,” Bucky said. “She handles the diplomats. She’s good at keeping everyone happy.”</p>
<p>Eventually, Steve shifted his body, stretching his right thigh across Bucky’s legs. That pushed his cocklet into Bucky’s warm thigh and spread his slick folds like a brand against Bucky’s skin. Bucky put his hand lower on Steve’s back, cupping the upper swell of his ass. He tipped Steve’s face up to meet his lips.</p>
<p>This time, there was no urgency, no fear of anyone walking in unannounced. This was Steve’s private room and the doors were barricaded as much as possible. With the soft light from the lamp and the dim light that framed the door to the hall, they could pretend they were the only ones in the world. There was no White House, no presidency, no war going on in the world. Just the two of them chasing pleasure together in a small bed in the semi-dark.</p>
<p>Afterward, while still knotted together, kissing and stroking each other softly, Steve whispered, “This is the last time, isn’t it. I mean, I’m probably pregnant, so this is going to be it for a while.”</p>
<p>“That seems likely,” Bucky said. He dropped his head to Steve’s chest and tried not to give into sadness before he had to. He thought about the idea of a pregnant Steve and decided he approved of the concept. Steve, with a rounded belly and puffy breasts, glowing with new life? It seemed wonderful. He felt protective all over again and helpless in the face of it. He pictured Steve holding a newborn in his arms, cradling a small body, singing a lullaby. Later on, kissing a skinned knee or sending a little Beta or Alpha or Omega off to school or the two of them cheering on the sidelines at some ridiculous soccer game where all the kids just ran in a clump after the ball. He wanted that life. He wanted those kids. He wanted to look across a crowded dinner table past shouting, laughing children that looked a little like him and a little like Steve, and see Steve smiling at him.</p>
<p>He wanted a life with Steve.</p>
<p>He would never have a life with Steve.</p>
<p>Bucky tried not to let on to the dark turn his thoughts had taken, but then Steve was holding him closer and asking, “What is it? What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. This is exactly right.” He lifted his face and stared lovingly at Steve, memorizing the curve of his cheek, the little bend in his nose, the blue of his eyes and the sunshine in his hair.</p>
<p>“Is it horrible of me that I don’t want you to go?”</p>
<p>Bucky tried not to laugh. “Of course not. But I will have to go.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. “Is it horrible of me that I’m glad Rumlow isn’t going to visit?”</p>
<p>And that cured Bucky of wanting to laugh. “Absolutely not. Steve, I don’t mean to pry and you can tell me you don’t want to talk about it, but what did-“</p>
<p>“I don’t remember most of it,” Steve said. “Yesterday was a blur from start to finish. I mean, I remember parts of it, images. I think I didn’t want you to go.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bucky said. “You were begging me, but… I couldn’t have stayed. I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>“I know, and that’s fair,” Steve agreed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, of course, I wanted you to stay. Rumlow wasn’t very, um, kind? To me? Not like you were.”</p>
<p>“Oh, honey,” Bucky said. He kissed along Steve’s clavicle and shoulder. “I’m so sorry he hurt you. I saw the bruises.”</p>
<p>Steve was quiet. “Oh,” he said finally. “Yeah. I don’t think he liked me very much.”</p>
<p>Bucky resolved never to tell Steve about the crowing Brock Rumlow had done in the commissary the night before about his time with Steve. Bucky didn’t want to repeat – and Steve didn’t need to know – that Brock had thoroughly described Steve’s genitalia, and how it had looked ‘stuffed full of cock,’ or especially how Steve’s asshole had stretched so wide it bled to accommodate his knot, and how Steve had screamed, and cried and finally just curled over the breeding bench and took whatever Brock gave him ‘like a sweet whore should,’ to a small group of wide-eyed subordinates. Brock hadn’t known Bucky was sitting on the other side of a partition, having coffee with Coulson, and both of them could hear every word. Bucky had wanted to respond, to defend Steve, but Coulson had merely put a hand on Bucky’s wrist and told him, ‘Not now. Not for this.’</p>
<p>“He wasn’t good enough for you,” Bucky said finally. “I’m not good enough for you. But I want to try to be.”</p>
<p>Steve looked up at him, eyes wide and sincere. “You’re the best person I know, Bucky Barnes. I won’t let you say otherwise.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The next morning, Steve soaked for a long time in his tub while staring blankly at a positive pregnancy test.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. An Invitation to Dine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Success should always be rewarded.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A week later, Bucky was invited to tea with the First Lady, along with Brock Rumlow. It was the first time he’d seen either of them since Steve’s heat. He’d changed into his finest suit out of respect, used his best, blandest manners, accepted a slice of almond cake and a cup of strong tea, handled the delicate china with care, and waited to learn why they had been summoned.</p>
<p>Natasha waved the ubiquitous Secret Service agents out of the room. Only Angie, on her knees on a cushion by Natasha’s feet, remained. “Don’t look so somber, gentlemen,” Natasha began with a huge smile that displayed her teeth. “I have wonderful news! Amazing news and I thought best to share with you together. I am pregnant.”</p>
<p>Bucky sipped carefully at his tea. Brock, who hadn’t bothered to change from his standard-issue black tactical uniform, frowned. “You are, ma’am?”</p>
<p>She tilted her head. “I am to have baby. That means pregnant, yes?”</p>
<p>Angie gently pet the hem of Natasha’s dress. She turned her face upward and said softly, “Ma’am, in English, we say ‘we’ are pregnant when it is the Omega.”</p>
<p>“Ah. Of course. My mistake,” Natasha said slowly. Her smile turned slightly brittle. “’We’ are pregnant. But I am to have baby. Next March, doctors say. Maybe April.”</p>
<p>Bucky found his voice. “Congratulations, ma’am. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful mother.” Steve! Steve was pregnant. How was he handling the news? Was he pleased? Frightened? Was he getting the right medical care? Taking all his vitamins? Getting enough rest?</p>
<p>“So, it took,” Brock was saying, a grin on his face. “Any idea whose it is?”</p>
<p>If possible, Natasha’s spine straightened even further. “It is the president’s child, of course.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but,” Brock went on, seemingly ignoring or just unable to read Natasha’s irritation at the question, “we fucked her, too.” He gestured between him and Bucky. Bucky wanted to tell him he could stop including him at any time.</p>
<p>Natasha didn’t so much as flinch. “You did no such thing. I don’t know where you get this stupid idea. You had nothing to do with anything. You leave. I not invite you now.”</p>
<p>Brock stared at her, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. Finally, he put down his plate, stood up from the small table and bowed stiffly. “Ma’am,” he said, “Colonel. I have a prior engagement. Please excuse me.” Natasha turned her head. Brock left.</p>
<p>In the silence that followed, Bucky said, “I’m really happy for you, ma’am.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, James.”</p>
<p>It was the first time she’d used his given name. He wondered what that signified.</p>
<p>“You did not come to find me, that last day,” she continued, eyeing him over her teacup. “I expected you to come find me.”</p>
<p>He thought quickly. “It took longer to settle Stevie than I thought it would.”</p>
<p>She frowned, a little pucker of dismay between her eyebrows. “Should I not have cancelled Rumlow?”</p>
<p>“No, no, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle,” he said. “Just took a little longer. I went home, after. Did some laundry. Bought some groceries.”</p>
<p>She nodded, mollified. “Very well. You have done the president a great service. I understand your project is going well?”</p>
<p>Uncertain what he could say to her about it, he nodded and spoke in generalities about his work until Angie brought Natasha’s attention to her own schedule and they said goodbye.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>A month later, Angie dressed Steve with care into a new outfit before bundling him into a thick, dark blue hooded cloak and escorting him to the back entrance of the White House. She pulled the hem of the extra-deep hood down to his chin, completely obscuring his sight, and made sure the sleeves draped well past his fingertips. “Be good,” she said quickly, “be obedient. You’ll be expected to find your way back to your room directly after you return. It’ll be late.” She patted his shoulder and then he was being guided into the back seat of an SUV and buckled in.</p>
<p>No one spoke, but Steve had the impression there were two agents in the car besides the driver. There may have been traffic, for they seemed to move slowly and stop often. After a short while, Steve thought of counting as a way to measure time and ended up with maybe twelve minutes before the SUV doors began opening and someone took his elbow and tugged gently.</p>
<p>He was grateful for the firm grip or he might have stumbled on the white gravel he found beneath his feet. He heard barking in the distance, and the sounds of children at play. Where was he, a park? A school? No one had told him and Angie said earlier she didn’t know.</p>
<p>The grip on his elbow tugged him into movement. Steve could only see about an inch in front of his feet if he looked. With careful steps, he was guided from the white gravel to a paved walkway to a low step. He heard voices, but the words were muffled by the heavy fabric over his head. The pressure on his elbow disappeared and he had the sense that he was standing alone.</p>
<p>Before panic could completely overtake him, he felt a gentler touch on his covered wrists. He took a step, and then another, and was soon helped across a flat welcome mat and then, unmistakably, into a private home. It was cooler inside than it had been outdoors, and museum-quiet. The air was refreshing on what parts of his face it could reach. He stood still, not daring to move by himself. He might be wrong. This might be the worst thing ever to happen to him. He might be standing in the center of a dozen or so naked Alphas who were going to ravish him. Or would it be worse if they were clothed, and that someone else was going to ravish him? Or what if-</p>
<p>The tips of two highly polished men’s dress shoes appeared in his narrow field of vision and then someone began lifting the hem of his hood. About halfway up his face, a soft voice said, “Careful, it may be too bright at first.” The hood was pushed over his head and Steve blinked to see Mr. Coulson standing in front of him. He was fully clothed in a dressy, but casual, apple-green long-sleeved shirt and dark slacks. There was no one else around.</p>
<p>Coulson smiled. “Welcome to my home, Steve. May I take your cloak?”</p>
<p>Steve unbuttoned his cloak and handed it over to Coulson while squinting around at a rather opulent entrance hall. There was a curving staircase leading to a second floor, two sets of polished wood double doors on either side, and a passageway below the stairs leading to the back of the house. He caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror to his right framed by a vase of flowers and a bronze sculpture of a bird with a long, pointy beak. The whole house was decorated and designed in a neo-Federalist style that Steve found to be both warm and intimidating.</p>
<p>“This way, Steve, please,” Coulson said. He led Steve past the stairs toward the back of the house and into a large, beautifully outfitted kitchen, the sort featured in architectural magazines or Nancy Meyers movies. Steve saw a young Beta standing at a gas stove stirring sauce in a small pot. She wore an orange check apron over jeans and a t-shirt. She smiled at Steve.</p>
<p>“I’m Daisy,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded and returned her greeting. Coulson pointed out some bar stools pulled up to the second kitchen counter and asked what Steve wanted to drink. Steve asked for ice water automatically and sat where he was directed. The kitchen was large enough to have space for everything, Steve realized. Daisy was standing at the stove, Coulson was several feet away reaching into a cabinet for a glass, then stepping over to a large refrigerator to get water from a dispenser in the door. Steve saw a huge white sink along one counter and a small, circular sink in the main island. One whole row of upper cabinets had glass panes in the doors which showed serving dishes and plates and lots of things in tiny glass jars that were maybe spices.</p>
<p>One of the three ovens Steve could see was baking something that smelled delicious. There was bread on a cutting board next to a selection of cheese, nuts and honey. Three bottles of wine stood nearby next to three wine glasses. Coulson placed Steve’s glass of water in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry,” he said with a genial smile. “Daisy makes the best lasagna.”</p>
<p>“Oh, stop,” Daisy said with a laugh. “It’s a basic recipe. You act like it’s from some Italian grandmother or something. It’s Betty Crocker.”</p>
<p>“And it’s delicious.” Coulson smiled again at Steve. “I keep telling her. It doesn’t matter what recipe it is or where it comes from. It matters who cooks it.”</p>
<p>Steve sipped his water, enjoying the icy feel of it down his throat. He didn’t know what to say or even if he was supposed to respond. Someone would tell him what he was supposed to do, right? Surely, they’d tell him why he was there.</p>
<p>“Help yourself to appetizers,” Coulson said then. He brought the platter of cheese, honey and nuts closer to Steve. “I’m saving the bread for dinner or I’ll spoil my appetite.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. Realizing he was expected to eat something, he selected a thin slice of cheese and nibbled at it. His stomach rumbled. Was it from nerves or was he honestly hungry?</p>
<p>“Won’t be another minute,” Daisy said. “I need to run if I’m going to make it in time for the show. You can take it from here, right, boss?”</p>
<p>“Thank you for staying as long as you did,” Coulson said. “Go have fun. Don’t come back early.”</p>
<p>“I packed a bag. It’s in the car already. I’ll be back by lunch tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Or maybe right after lunch. Definitely for dinner.”</p>
<p>“Just go, Daisy.”</p>
<p>As Steve watched, Daisy darted over to Coulson, leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Have a good night, Steve,” she said, and then hurried out the kitchen door to the back of the house.</p>
<p>“She’s a spirited girl,” Coulson said. “She’s been with me for the past year or so. I found her living out of her van and took her in, gave her a home here. She works as my housekeeper. I don’t have anyone else living here and it’s nice to come home to someone. Daisy… she’s like my daughter, in a lot of ways. If I had ever had children, of course.” The timer went off on the oven and Coulson started fussing with taking the lasagna out and setting it on a trivet, sprinkling some shredded mozzarella over the top along with a few shakes of parsley.</p>
<p>Steve heard the sound of a car engine driving away, which he assumed was Daisy leaving, but then he heard another engine roaring up behind the house. He turned and looked out one of the many windows with views into a rather lush, green back yard garden and saw an Alpha getting off a motorcycle. The Alpha wore black jeans and a black leather jacket and a black helmet. He parked the motorcycle, set the kickstand, then turned and strode easily toward the house.</p>
<p>Steve felt his heart thud in his chest. He knew this man before he removed his helmet and stepped onto the terrace. He thought he’d know this man anywhere: Bucky Barnes.</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t bother to knock on the door. He just walked in, saw Steve sitting there, and stared. A smile spread over his face that made Steve feel like singing. Bucky was happy. He walked in and saw Steve and was happy. Steve slid off the stool, suddenly very aware of his skimpy clothes in comparison to Bucky’s jeans, long-sleeved shirt, leather jacket and general Alph-attitude.</p>
<p>“Oh, Steve,” Bucky said. “It’s so good to see you.” He took a step toward him, then stopped.</p>
<p>Coulson muttered, “Go on, go on,” and Bucky rushed forward and scooped up Steve into his arms, burying his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.</p>
<p>“Oh, Steve, I’ve missed you,” he said. “How are you? How’s the baby? Are you feeling okay? Any morning sickness? Any cravings? How have you been sleeping?”</p>
<p>“Jeez, Buck,” Steve said, taking a step back and smiling. “I guess you heard the news, huh?”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded and pulled Steve back into another hug. Bucky’s arms felt safe, like home and comfort and protection, and Steve didn’t want the feeling to end. He didn’t care what he was there for or why he’d been taken out of the White House for the first time since he’d gotten there, but here he was and in Bucky’s embrace and it felt so very good.</p>
<p>“Come on, you two. Before your dinner gets too cold.” Coulson’s voice was indulgent and kind. Bucky and Steve pulled apart and saw that Coulson had put the lasagna, bread, appetizers and a large green salad onto the farmhouse table by a mullioned window overlooking the garden. “Come sit,” he instructed.</p>
<p>There were three place settings. Steve sat between Coulson and Bucky, who took the farther end with the widest view of the kitchen. Coulson served them salad and offered thick slices of what turned out to be rosemary-olive oil bread, as well as the cheese and honey. He poured them each a glass of wine, filling Steve’s up only halfway.</p>
<p>“Now, Steve,” Coulson said, “I know doctors say alcohol isn’t entirely safe for the baby, but I also know other doctors who say a glass of wine every week isn’t enough to do any damage, either. Just the one half-glass, for taste, and eat plenty of dinner.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, sir,” Steve said.</p>
<p>Bucky helped himself to a little of everything. “Thanks again for setting this up, Coulson,” he said. “I was going crazy.”</p>
<p>Steve glanced at the two Alphas. “Setting what up? What’s actually going on? Why am I here?”</p>
<p>Coulson exchanged a speaking look with Bucky who returned it with a vague gesture. Steve wanted to push the issue, make a demand, but over the past year – hell, over most of his life – he’d been conditioned to never question an Alpha on any subject about anything. They didn’t want to answer his questions? Then his questions weren’t worth answering. Frankly, he was surprised he had the gall to even speak without permission.</p>
<p>Then Coulson surprised him by saying, “You’re here to entertain me this evening, Stevie. President Pierce has been gracious enough to reward me for finding you and bringing you to his attention. The one thing he has wanted to do for his wife was provide her a child. For reasons I am unwilling to share with you, that is impossible except through an Omega. Except through you.”</p>
<p>“I see.” Steve looked down at his plate. He hadn’t felt like a broodmare in days. He supposed he was overdue.</p>
<p>“Did you know I am the fifth Chief of Staff the president has had in the last five years?”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. Bucky handed him a bowl of salad, already lightly dressed in oil and vinegar. He accepted with a smile.</p>
<p>“It’s true. It’s not well known, but each Chief of Staff since the president’s marriage to his current wife has been charged with the same task. The first one claimed it was immoral and refused. He was found in bed with a dead prostitute, both of them smeared in cocaine and semen. He’s serving two life terms in prison now. According to autopsy records, the Omega prostitute was pregnant at the time.”</p>
<p>Steve fought his sudden nausea.</p>
<p>“The second Chief readily agreed and found a likely Omega from a decent family. But that Omega did not work out. She cried every time the president bred her and spoke out of turn to any who would listen about the president’s… medical history, shall we say.”</p>
<p>Steve frowned. Bucky stifled a snort. They continued eating.</p>
<p>“The president decided that an Omega who gossiped was a liability, and the Alpha who vouched for that gossiping Omega was equally guilty. That Alpha is now serving time in a federal penitentiary for treason.”</p>
<p>Steve gulped. This was all going down a fairly predictable path.</p>
<p>“So, a third Chief of Staff was brought in, this time, a Beta. She was given the same task. She found an Omega who’d been educated at a private finishing school. Top of her class. That Omega accused the First Lady of treason. It turned out the Omega had been the younger stepsister of the Chief of Staff. They were both dismissed. That Chief of Staff disappeared. Two weeks later, she was found floating in the Potomac. Then there was my immediate predecessor, also a Beta. She found an Omega from a good family, very old money, storied history, related to several presidents and heads of state, that sort of thing. That Omega, however, believed she could replace the First Lady in her bed, just as the First Lady had replaced her own predecessor. Of course, that marriage was flawed from the start. The current Mrs. Pierce is the president’s truest love.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. He understood what Coulson was saying.</p>
<p>“That Omega got caught with several of Mrs. Pierce’s belongings in her room. The Chief of Staff who vouched for her is awaiting trial indefinitely on charges of being an accessory to burglary. And here I am.”</p>
<p>Steve kept his eyes on his plate. “What, uh, what happened to the Omegas, sir?”</p>
<p>“Them?” Coulson smeared some butter on a small chunk of bread before popping it into his mouth. “I’m honestly not sure. I’ve heard rumors, of course, of the proverbial farm upstate, but also of them ending up working in a private school or hotel overseas.”</p>
<p>“A school? That doesn’t –“</p>
<p>“It’s not that kind of school, Steve,” Bucky said quietly. “Or hotel, for that matter.”</p>
<p>“Indeed, no,” Coulson explained. “Those are colloquialisms for a brothel. The farm upstate is, of course…”</p>
<p>Steve nodded his head. “So where does this leave me?”</p>
<p>“Well, you’re in luck. While everything I’ve said is true, what’s also true is that you’re the first one to actually get pregnant,” Coulson said. “So, congratulations!” He raised his glass of wine.</p>
<p>Bucky grimaced and downed his own glass. Coulson poured him another.</p>
<p>Steve felt wretched. Those other Omegas hadn’t known what they were in for. They probably didn’t have any allies anywhere. He at least had Bucky. And, maybe, Coulson, too?</p>
<p>The main dish had cooled enough, so Coulson began serving it. Daisy’s lasagna was indeed delicious. Hot, cheesy, plenty of sauce plus extra sauce in a tureen and grated cheese in a small saucer. Steve wanted to keep eating it but could only manage one generous square.</p>
<p>Coulson and Bucky kept up a light conversation and eventually, Steve felt comfortable enough to join in. They talked about old movies, classic songs, and their favorite conspiracy theories. Bucky’s was the Flat Earth Theory.</p>
<p>“It’s ridiculous,” Bucky laughed, “to seriously believe the Earth is flat. It doesn’t even make sense. People post pictures of the horizon, clearly curved, and they insist what they’re looking at is flat. The sheer number of people that would have to be complicit, if it were true, is almost everyone on the planet for most of history.” He poured himself a second glass of wine. “I guess that’s my favorite one. The delusion is immense.”</p>
<p>Coulson nodded his head. “That is a good one. I’ve never met anyone in person who believes it, though. I think people say they do just to troll.”</p>
<p>Bucky shrugged. “Sure. Maybe. But I also think some people believe they are privy to the truth and the rest of us are all idiots because it makes them feel important. Smart.”</p>
<p>“Agreed.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled, feeling bold. “What’s your favorite, Mr. Coulson?”</p>
<p>“Ah! Well, I may be showing my age,” Coulson said, wiping some sauce off the corner of his mouth, “but I’ve always had a taste for the classics. Mine is that Paul McCartney was an Omega. They say he was because he was so pretty.”</p>
<p>Steve frowned. “Alphas can’t be pretty?” He glanced at Bucky. Bucky caught the look, winked at Steve, then focused on his dinner plate, a smile playing on his lips.</p>
<p>“That’s what they say.” Coulson sat back in his chair. “They point to various lyrics as proof. They say if you listen to ‘I am the Walrus’ backwards, you can hear Lennon saying ‘Paul is omega’ over and over again.” He shook his head. “People believe the evidence they want to believe. It’s amazing how well the human brain can be both completely logical and completely idiotic at the same time.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded slowly. “My Ma used to say something like that. She’d go on about people voting against their own interests. She and her friends? They’d gather and, you know, arrange protests and stuff. It didn’t work. None of it changed anything.”</p>
<p>“It’s like changing course in a boat,” Bucky said carefully. “If it’s a speedboat, or a cigarette boat, changing course is easy. Too easy. You can capsize by turning too fast. A single person is like a speedboat. A large group of people, like a political party or an entire country, is more like an ocean liner. You can’t change course on an ocean liner that quick. It takes time, planning, and someone at the wheel dedicated to overcorrecting the curve just to get the ship back on a safer course. It’s why the Titanic still hit that iceberg. They steered away from it, but they didn’t have enough time. It still sank.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Steve said. “Spoiler alert!”</p>
<p>Bucky looked at him, startled, then the three of them laughed. Their conversation moved on to cheerier topics.</p>
<p>“Tonight is very important, Steve,” Coulson said when they had collectively decided to wait on dessert. “You’re here to entertain me, as I said before. You’ve had dinner with me, we’ve had pleasant conversation, and now I’m going to take you to bed.” He smiled blandly at Steve. “You ready?”</p>
<p>Steve choked on air.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Coulson directed Bucky to leave his cellphone, watch, wallet and all his key cards and identification in a small wicker basket at the foot of the back staircase. Bucky agreed with a shrug after Coulson explained, “There are no working cameras or recording devices on the second floor of this house. The windows are insulated and protected against vibrations. Nothing, absolutely nothing, that happens upstairs can be or will be recorded or monitored by anyone.”</p>
<p>Satisfied that Bucky was divested of all electronic devices, Coulson led them up the narrow service staircase to the second floor. They didn’t go far, just to the first door on the right, which Coulson opened and ushered both of them through.</p>
<p>Steve found himself in a plush bedroom done up in mulberry and dark wood. Tall curtains blocked all outside light from the two pair of windows on each of the exterior walls. One set of windows framed a massively large bed constructed of heavy wood, elegantly carved into swirls and curves. It would not have looked out of place in the White House, he thought. Light came from a single lamp on one small bedside table. There was a padded bench at the foot of the bed, a wingback chair in the corner, and everything was upholstered in a pink, mulberry and green pattern. He saw a thick Persian carpet on the polished wood floor and a narrow highboy next to the ensuite bathroom. Fresh flowers stood in a large vase on the floor. It was a lovely, plush, decadent room. It was a room to have sex in.</p>
<p>Coulson opened the top drawer of the highboy and withdrew a slender object. He handed it to Steve. It was a dildo. It wasn’t as heavy or as thick as Natasha’s had been and it had a switch in the part of the base that was meant to stick out of the body instead of a separate controller, but it was clearly styled to represent an Alpha penis. He tried not to grimace.</p>
<p>“This is what’s going to happen,” Coulson said, his tone as mild as it had been downstairs during dinner while he told a story about the dog he had when he was in high school, “Steve, you’re going to lay down on this bed and you’re going to get yourself off with this dildo. By that, I mean you’re going to come at least once with this inside you. You will not clean it. Just put it on the bedside table when you’re done with it. You’re going to stay in this room until eleven-thirty at which time you will be given fifteen minutes’ notice to freshen up before going back downstairs to await your ride back home. Any questions?”</p>
<p>Bucky replied, “We have no questions. Phil, thank you.”</p>
<p>“It’s my genuine pleasure, Colonel Barnes.” He smiled at Steve. “Have a good evening.”</p>
<p>Steve watched as Coulson walked out into the hallway, pulling the door shut firmly behind him.</p>
<p>“Uh. What?”</p>
<p>Bucky took Steve into his arms, pressing a kiss into his hair. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to be here?”</p>
<p>Steve had just started putting his hands onto Bucky’s waist when he stiffened up and pulled back. “You want to be here, right? I mean, I kind of got the impression that –“</p>
<p>“Yes,” Steve said with a laugh, reaching out to grab the belt loops on Bucky’s jeans. “Yes. I’m happy to see you. It’s not just a gun in my pocket.”</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head fondly. “Punk. I missed you.” He kissed Steve swiftly, then again with more intent. “How have you been doing? Really? I want to know. I want to know everything.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m fine,” he said. “I haven’t really noticed any changes. Doctor says I won’t until closer to the second trimester. That’s when the morning sickness should start to kick in, apparently.”</p>
<p>Bucky rubbed Steve’s flat abdomen. “Hard to believe something’s growing in there.”</p>
<p>“Tell me about it.” Steve held Bucky’s hand to his belly and looked up into Bucky’s eyes. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admitted. “The past month has been kind of strange.”</p>
<p>“How so?” Bucky led them over to the bench to sit down. As Steve tried to explain, Bucky pulled his feet into his lap and began sliding off his sandals.</p>
<p>“Everyone’s been so nice to me,” Steve said. “I haven’t been asked to do anything. After dinners, I just go back to my room.” He shrugged. “They leave me alone, which I guess is good, but…”</p>
<p>Bucky started gently rubbing Steve’s bare feet. “They weren’t leaving you alone before? Who was bothering you?”</p>
<p>“Not bothering me. That sounds like they were doing something they didn’t have the right to.” He stared at his feet in Bucky’s strong hands. His ankles looked delicate all of a sudden. Or Bucky’s hands just looked strong and capable. Either way, the contrast between his feet and Bucky’s hands sent a quivering through Steve’s heart. Then Bucky began to knead the ball of his left foot, and then the heel, and it was all Steve could do to fall backward onto the cushioned bench, moaning in gratitude and relief.</p>
<p>“You like that, hm?”</p>
<p>“Don’t stop,” Steve begged. “Please don’t ever stop-oh my god, that’s amazing, that’s fucking amazing!” He was suddenly aware of all the tension he was carrying around in his feet because it was being pushed out by Bucky’s fingers and it was almost better than an orgasm. Indeed, if he were to be fucked while getting both his feet massaged like this, he thought his heart would probably burst.</p>
<p>Bucky chuckled, clearly delighted. “I’m glad. I’ve been told I do a killer massage.”</p>
<p>“You do-o-o…” Steve’s other foot started to feel funny, left out, eager, almost. He nudged Bucky’s hip.</p>
<p>“I won’t forget the other one,” Bucky said. “Don’t worry. Now, keep talking. What’s been going on that’s so strange about the past month?”</p>
<p>Steve gave up all further pretense of being unaffected by the foot massage. He let one arm fall down to the floor and draped the other across his abdomen. He couldn’t feel anything in there yet, of course, but he still had an urge to check in with whatever might be happening. “Nothing, really. I mean, I’m not being mistreated. I’m being left alone. That’s what's so unexpected.”</p>
<p>“How so?”</p>
<p>He shrugged. “I used to see the president and the First Lady almost every night,” he said. “And then there were the state events, and the parties, of course.” He said the last part softly, as if Bucky didn’t know about what went on, which was ridiculous, because he was pretty sure Bucky was there. He was a witness. He <em>knew</em>. He tamped down his embarrassment. Bucky had been inside him. What was left to be shy about? “Now there’s just my weekly doctor’s appointment and solarium time. Otherwise, I’m pretty much being left alone.”</p>
<p>Bucky patted Steve’s foot and set it down on the bench. He picked up the right foot, sending Steve into renewed paroxysms of pleasure as he kneaded and rubbed. “What’s solarium time?”</p>
<p>“Just what it sounds like,” Steve replied after enjoying the massage and resulting tingles for a moment. “I get two hours in the First Lady’s solarium to soak up sunshine. It’s supposed to be healthful or something. I basically just lay there on the chaise and look outside.”</p>
<p>“By yourself?”</p>
<p>“Mm-hm. I kind of fall asleep. There’s really nothing else to do. They don’t want me reading while I’m there. I think I’m supposed to be focusing on the sun’s energy or something New Age like that.”</p>
<p>“Huh. That sounds kind of nice.”</p>
<p>“You’d think so. But it’s also boring. I wasn’t really doing anything with my days before, but at least I was getting to hear what was going on outside.”</p>
<p>“How do you mean?”</p>
<p>“After, you know, after Pierce, uh, did his duty, he’d have me sit at his feet while he and the First Lady discussed whatever was going on that day and how to respond to it. Sometimes, Coulson would come in with an update on something. Rogue golf carts in Sandy Springs. A house burning in Charleston. Some fight club or something got out of control. That sort of thing. I got to hear about the world outside for a while. Even if I was mostly out of it.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s hands slowed. “They talked policy in front of you?”</p>
<p>“I guess. I don’t really know. I mostly zoned out and stared at the fire. It’s not like they were asking me questions or testing me after.” He kicked his foot in Bucky’s hands. “Don’t stop. It feels really good.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, sir,” Bucky said, shooting him a smile before renewing his massage. “I meant to ask before. Is something wrong? Why are you seeing the doctor every week?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Nothing changes. I guess they’re just being careful.”</p>
<p>“Sure, I guess. Uh, they would tell you if something were wrong, wouldn’t they?”</p>
<p>Steve frowned. “Wouldn’t they have to?” He lifted his head and looked at Bucky. “They’d have to tell me, right?” Bucky shrugged, which didn’t fill Steve with any confidence. He pulled his feet out of Bucky’s hands and sat upright on the bench. “What’s really going on? Why am I really here?”</p>
<p>“Well, Coulson’s being rewarded for you getting pregnant.”</p>
<p>Steve let his chin drop down to his chest. “Then why am I up here with you?”</p>
<p>Bucky shifted a little closer to Steve. “Don’t question good fortune,” he said softly, then leaned in and started kissing just behind Steve’s ear.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Steve whispered, and turned met Bucky’s lips with his own.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Bucky was strong and Steve was light, so it was effortless for him to pull the Omega onto his lap. Steve straddled him easily, clearly on board with the new plan of getting as much of their bodies as close together as possible. Bucky had taken off his jacket downstairs. Now he pulled off his long-sleeved Henley and tossed it to the floor. When he and Steve embraced, the sudden impact of his naked skin against Steve’s bandeau’d chest made both of them gasp.</p>
<p>With a quick move, the bandeau was on the floor and Bucky could touch Steve’s breasts with his fingertips, lean Steve back over his arm and nuzzle and worship his nipples with his lips and tongue, teasing them into reddening peaks. Steve kept gasping for air, making little cries that Bucky kept swallowing up with more kissing. He felt Steve’s heat spreading over his lap, pressing onto his stiffening cock as it was held tight in his jeans. The pressure was exquisite and unbearable and he didn’t want it to end.</p>
<p>He had to concentrate to undo the hooks that connected the pant legs to the belt, but soon Steve was standing barefoot on the carpet in front of Bucky, his narrow chest heaving, skin flushed, hair tousled, looking lovelier and sexier than Bucky thought he probably deserved. The thin belt encircled his waist, holding up the panty to cover Steve’s straining little cock. His pert little breasts flushed pink, the nipples glistened with spit, and Steve’s chest heaved with each breath making it clear the Omega was not unaffected by Alpha attention.</p>
<p>Screw patience, Bucky told himself as he stood up, scooped Steve into his arms and then tossed him onto the center of the wide bed. Steve landed with a giggle that faded as he watched Bucky kick out of his boots, his jeans, his shorts. Fully nude, Bucky climbed onto the mattress and crawled over Steve’s body. He let the tip of his cock drag a little over the silk panty before settling his legs on either side of Steve’s thighs.</p>
<p>“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice deep and growling.</p>
<p>Steve, his eyes huge in the dim light, nodded.</p>
<p>“We have hours,” Bucky said. “I’m going to spend all of it taking you apart and then putting you back together.” He bent his neck to let his forehead rub gently against Steve’s. “But, baby,” he went on, “if I do anything you don’t like, anything at all, just say so. Just say, um… Jersey, okay? Say that. No one likes Jersey. I won’t be mad. I’ll be happy. Last thing I want to do is cause you any pain.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Steve said solemnly. “I want you to stop, I say ‘Jersey.’</p>
<p>“That’s my guy,” Bucky said. He started mouthing along Steve’s clavicle.</p>
<p>“What do I say if I want you to keep going? What do I say if I like it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, honey,” Bucky chuckled. “You can just keep screaming my name.”</p>
<p>They didn’t talk much after that, not for a while. Bucky spent a lot of time on Steve’s breasts before nuzzling tenderly down his midline to suck at his cocklet through the panty, already soaked with slick. He debated if he should suck Steve off through the silk or not but ended up unhooking the scrap of cloth from the belt and then peeling it off the wet folds with his tongue. Steve’s slick was warm and sweet, and Bucky lapped it up like it was nectar. He teased Steve into a shaking orgasm with the tip of his tongue before taking himself in hand and guiding his cock into the smooth channel of his slender body. Once again, Bucky felt the tight heat and smooth squeeze of Steve’s slender body.</p>
<p>They moved together. Steve slid his hands across Bucky’s chest, caressing the muscles there, flicking at his nipples. Each touch of his soft hands on his skin sent Bucky’s need higher and more desperate. They exchanged kisses, open-mouthed and gasping. They stared into each other’s eyes as Bucky’s knot started to swell. Steve’s mouth fell open and Bucky kissed him again.</p>
<p>“Bucky, Bucky, please.” Steve turned his face and begged, gasping, fingernails digging into Bucky’s back.</p>
<p>Bucky pushed his knot into place inside Steve’s body and groaned in relief as he started to come. Steve’s thighs gripped his hips and he could feel Steve’s feet on his backside, holding him close. Steve looked up at him and smiled. His eyes glistened. “Bucky, Bucky,” he said in a deliberate and playful tone. “I like this.”</p>
<p>“Oh, God, Steve,” Bucky replied, too overwhelmed with the feeling of being inside Steve to be flippant. “I like this, too.”</p>
<p>While his knot pulsed into Steve’s body, he focused on kissing Steve everywhere he could reach, and caressing the parts of him that he couldn’t. He got a hand up under Steve’s ass so he could grip one firm cheek, then discovered that the shifting of their bodies felt incredibly good and Steve came again. At this angle, Bucky could suck at Steve’s nipple. It helped when Steve plumped up his own breast and held the nipple to Bucky’s mouth. He thought briefly about the baby inside Steve’s womb. It could be their baby.</p>
<p>He really wanted it to be their baby.</p>
<p>But he really couldn’t say that out loud.</p>
<p>Instead, he nipped at Steve’s flesh, caressed him some more, and let Steve explore the parts of his body that he could reach. His hands were cool, tentative, and so unlike any other touch he’d ever experienced. He found himself wanting to make promises and had to kiss Steve to prevent himself from making a huge mistake.</p>
<p>After his knot deflated enough, Bucky pulled out to rest next to Steve on the bed. “I suppose we should get the toy out of the way,” he said after a moment.</p>
<p>“Do we have to?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we do. I can let you use it by yourself, if you want,” Bucky said. “If it’ll make you feel more comfortable. I can go into the bathroom or out into the hall. But yes. You need to be able to say you used it.”</p>
<p>“Why? Who’s going to ask?”</p>
<p>Bucky sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the side. “Maybe no one. Maybe everyone. You don’t know, but you don’t want to lie. They’ll sniff out a lie. Keep your lies as close to the truth as you can. Rule one of being devious.” He tossed a devilish smile over his shoulder. “Besides. It might be fun.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t fun. Turned out that Steve had a real hard time relaxing with the fake cock inside him.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand what’s wrong,” Bucky said. They’d figured out that Steve was not comfortable using the toy on himself whether Bucky was there or not, so Bucky sat in front of him on the bed, Steve’s legs sprawled across his lap, his pussy gaping open to Bucky’s gaze. He dipped the toy in and out of Steve’s hole a few times, then used the tip of it to tickle his little cock. Just as before, the cocklet swelled, slick pulsed out of the slit, and Steve gasped with pleasure. Bucky switched on the vibrating function and Steve writhed, his eyes falling closed. Bucky reached over to tweak one of his nipples. Steve shrieked and giggled playfully.</p>
<p>But as soon as Bucky pushed the dildo back inside his body, Steve’s passion waned.</p>
<p>“You got to help me out here, buddy. We’ve tried this a half dozen different ways. What’s the real problem? This doesn’t feel good?”</p>
<p>Steve swallowed visibly and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I can’t relax with it. I just keep thinking about… about my heat. And… and… how it felt then. With the… toy. I guess.”</p>
<p>He frowned. “I know the First Lady used it on you. She was fucking you with it every morning I walked in. I hate to make assumptions, but you didn’t exactly look like you were hating it.”</p>
<p>Steve covered his face with his hands. “Not exactly. I mean, I was in heat. A lot of things happened that I didn’t hate. Couldn’t hate, really. It’s like, just as long as I was being fucked, I was okay. It was good. Except it didn’t feel good afterward. Am I making any sense at all?” He dropped his hands in frustration.</p>
<p>“You are,” Bucky said, aiming to be delicate. His m’omega had explained it to him when he’d come of age. “It’s a defense mechanism. Your biological need to be mated overrides any actual preference for the mate himself or even the act in question. They say that, when an Omega is Heatsick, they aren’t able to consent to anything, but to deny them can cause real damage.”</p>
<p>“That’s a myth that Alphas perpetuate so that they can abuse Omegas without having to feel bad about it.”</p>
<p>The response was so unexpected it made Bucky laugh.</p>
<p>Steve glared at him. “It’s not funny! It’s true!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m not laughing at you. You sounded so sour just then. It was startling. But the part about being Heatsick is true,” he continued more seriously. “My Mom told me.”</p>
<p>“You’re a pup?” Steve’s expression turned shy and hopeful.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I also have a married sister, and a little brother just starting high school. Rebecca and George. Well, they go by Becca and Wash.”</p>
<p>“Uh. Okay?”</p>
<p>Briefly, Bucky explained how he and his brother were both named after presidents. Bucky had often asked why he had to be named after one of the worst presidents (James Buchanan) when Wash got to be named after one of the best (George Washington), but his parents only laughed and laughed and refused to answer.</p>
<p>“So, anyway, no one can blame you for what happens to you when you’re Heatsick. I certainly don’t.”</p>
<p>After a long pause, Steve said, “I always knew when it was you, though. I think.” He frowned a little. “I felt safer when you were there. I really didn’t like what… the other times. With Commander Rumlow. There was… bruising. And blood. He, um, used the <em>toy</em> a lot. In both… both areas. With the, um, knot. In both. I mean, in my… in my ass, and-“</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ,” Bucky said and hauled Steve up into his arms. His legs automatically curled around Bucky’s hips and he hugged Bucky’s neck.</p>
<p>“-and it hurt so bad but I couldn’t say anything-“</p>
<p>“No, no, sweetheart, of course not.” Bucky held Steve close. He tucked Steve’s head protectively under his chin and let him curl up on his lap.</p>
<p>“-all I kept thinking was this was an Alpha, the only Alpha, and he was taking care of me. Only he was hurting me, and it wouldn’t stop. I could hear him laughing and calling me names and I just. Kept. Crawling. Back to him. Why was I doing that? What possible biologic purpose could that have?”</p>
<p>“Shhh, shhh, I got you. Rumlow’s not here. Rumlow’s long gone and he is never going to get near you again. I think he pissed off the First Lady a lot and maybe how he treated you was part of it.” It made sense, especially in light of what Steve was saying.</p>
<p>Steve wiped a hand over his face. He looked up at Bucky, eyes red. “What you must think of me, hearing that I crawled for him. That I presented for him. That I stayed on my knees for him.” He cringed, his thin shoulders hunching up around his ears.</p>
<p>“No, no,” Bucky laid his hand on the side of Steve’s face and gently encouraged him to sit upright. “I don’t think anything less of you for anything you’ve ever done to survive. You’re stuck in a terrible situation and I admire you for the strength you’re showing. Of course, you did what he told you to do. Of course, you did. You said it yourself. He was the only Alpha around. There wasn’t anyone else there who was going to protect you, or your future baby, so you obeyed him. That’s biology. What’s fucked up is that we’re all so certain of our superiority, that we think we’re all so civilized, when we’re all just animals like every other animal on this fucking, godforsaken planet. We keep telling ourselves we’re so above it all but when it comes down to it, we’re all just ruled by our hormones and pheromones and all the other ‘mones.’ It’s biology. We all just want to procreate, and this is how we’ve evolved to do it as human beings. That’s all it is.” He stroked Steve’s hair and tried to calm himself down. He’d be no good to Steve if he couldn’t remain calm about this. “It’s not just Omegas who get all fucked up from biology, you know. Alphas do, too. You should see what those jokers in those soirees are like when they all get their whiff of you.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t know. I’m pretty out of it then, too.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to scare you, but Pierce was drugging you for those parties. You know that, right?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, sounding remarkably unconcerned. “That’s the best part. I barely remember anything that happens. Whatever they shoot me up with is awesome.”</p>
<p>“Oh. That’s… that’s good, then.” Bucky warred a little with himself about whether he should tell Steve about the fistfights that kept breaking out, or the senator who stripped off his pants in order to hump a pillow in the middle of the room. He kissed Steve’s hair instead. “So, uh, this thing.” Bucky lifted the dildo. “It’s not going in your ass. I swear. It’s actually smaller than the one the First Lady was using which, come to think of it, I think maybe she was using that one to help you stretch, maybe?” That was an interesting thought and one he needed to contemplate later.</p>
<p>He switched on the ‘knot’ function and they watched as the base expanded to about double its size. “See?” Bucky said. “It’s only about half my size.”</p>
<p>“Really? That thing looks huge.”</p>
<p>He laughed. “Thanks. But no. That thing’s about half as big around. But it does vibrate, so it’ll feel good. I promise.” He smiled at Steve. “You’ll come at least twice if I have to put my mouth on you to prove it.”</p>
<p>Steve’s face lit up. “Oh yeah? Deal!”</p>
<p>He came three times, once without Bucky’s mouth on him at all.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Steve thought it must be close to eleven. They’d finally gotten cleaned up and back under the covers resting, cozy, spooned up together and quiet. They hadn’t spoken in several minutes. Steve could feel Bucky’s warm breath against the back of his neck. They’d shut off the lamp a while ago, but some light was still peeking in from under the hall door.</p>
<p>“Sometimes, at night, I don’t know what’s true anymore.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>Steve felt a kiss on the back of his neck. “I don’t know what’s real. This all feels completely wrong. Like the whole world’s gone off the rails and I’m the only one who cares.” He felt Bucky’s arm tighten around his waist, his fingers splayed over his abdomen. “I keep telling myself that I should do something, that I could do something. That something has to be done by someone and if no one else is going to do it then it has to be me. But there’s literally nothing I can think of to do.”</p>
<p>Bucky shifted even closer to Steve, almost leaning over him. Steve felt protected, sheltered. “You don’t have to do anything,” Bucky whispered.</p>
<p>“But by doing nothing, I’m complicit. And I am.” Tears filled his eyes. “There’s no way to spin me carrying Pierce’s baby that doesn’t make me complicit in that man’s utter evil. I’m literally complicit. I’m the definition of complicit. I’m guilty of-“</p>
<p>“Shhh, shh,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s ear. “I’m right here. I’m listening, but I don’t want to just hear you beat yourself up. I’d like to know what you think you could do. Keeping in mind you’re an Omega living in a repressive society that’s literally at war so that it can make the whole world repressive, too.”</p>
<p>Steve groaned and turned his face into the pillow, willing it to soak up his pain and frustration. “I know that. That’s all logical and reasonable but it doesn’t change how it all <em>feels!</em>” He sighed and fell silent. Bucky rubbed his hand over Steve’s abdomen in a gentle, soothing way. “I want it to be yours, you know,” Steve said, then compressed his lips so he wouldn’t keep talking.</p>
<p>In response, Bucky pulled Steve’s body even closer to his own. “So do I,” he breathed into Steve’s skin. “So do I.”</p>
<p>Precisely on time, Coulson knocked on their door. They got out of bed and dressed. Steve followed Coulson downstairs to the main hall. He accepted a small box of cookies and a kiss on the cheek before Coulson pulled the hood of his cloak down over his face. A moment later, Steve heard low voices and was guided back outside to the SUV. No one spoke to him on the way back to the White House.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Oval Office Experience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve is summoned to the Oval Office.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Steve was lounging on his bed, clad only in his emerald green panty and bandeau, reading a discarded magazine that he’d found, when Angie knocked on his bedroom door.</p>
<p>“Get ready, come quick,” she said. “The president wants to see you right now in the Oval. Hurry!”</p>
<p>Steve was full of questions, but Angie didn’t have any answers. She rushed him through slipping on his sandals and trouser legs while running a brush though his hair. She pulled out a sheer cloak that hid nothing of his bare skin from view and draped it over his shoulders. “Remember your manners,” she said as she led him downstairs and then through the door onto the loggia. “Don’t look anyone in the eye, don’t speak unless asked a direct question, and keep saying ‘sir.’” They stopped at the French doors that led into the Oval Office. A pair of Secret Service agents stood guard. They glanced at the two of them before one held the door open.</p>
<p>“Just her,” he said, and put a hand out toward Angie.</p>
<p>Steve took a deep breath and stepped inside.</p>
<p>The Oval Office looked just like it had in every TV show and movie he’d ever seen, though there were some differences. The walls were still painted a creamy white, but the drapery was cream and blue, and the carpet was blue with some red design in the center. Steve expected it to be the FSA seal, which was an eagle clutching a spear in each claw, its wings extended into stylized feathers. As he’d seen in every picture of the room, there were doors spaced along the curving wall, a pair of couches in the center, upholstered chairs, and the beautifully carved Resolute desk. There were Alphas in this room, but Steve could only fixate on one: President Pierce, standing up from his desk and walking toward him.</p>
<p>“Stevie,” Pierce said. “Come in, come in.”</p>
<p>The door shut behind Steve, creating a stillness in the room he wasn’t prepared for. He had the sensation of being sealed up in a tomb.</p>
<p>“This way, little Stevie,” Pierce said. He put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and guided him toward the pair of couches. Steve thought he recognized a couple of the dozen or so Alphas present (Coulson? Bucky?) before remembering to look down and keep his focus on the floor. As a result, he got a good look at the carpet and the FSA seal. It didn’t look much like an eagle anymore.</p>
<p>“That’s it. Just stand there. We have some questions for you.” Pierce sat on the edge of an armchair. He turned Steve to face him, his hands firm on Steve’s upper arms. He gave them a rub then let go as he leaned back. “Tell us, Stevie, what happened last night. How did it go?”</p>
<p>Steve coughed quietly. He focused on Pierce’s knees. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. It went fine.”</p>
<p>Pierce didn’t move. “Don’t be shy, Stevie. We’re all aware of Coulson’s, shall we say, proclivities. Just tell us what you did.”</p>
<p>“Uh, well, sir, I was driven to Mr. Coulson’s house. We had dinner.” His mouth felt very dry.</p>
<p>“Who was there?”</p>
<p>Steve heard a rustle of movement behind him and the clink of china on china. They had been drinking coffee; he could smell it in the room. “Mr. Coulson, sir.”</p>
<p>“Anyone else?”</p>
<p>Steve was shaking his head, determined to lie to protect Bucky, but then he remembered, “His housekeeper was there, but she left right away. Uh, Miss Daisy?” He risked a glance up at Pierce, then dropped his gaze once again. Pierce had been nodding his head. He looked satisfied, maybe?</p>
<p>“So, you had dinner with Coulson,” Pierce said. Steve nodded. “And then what happened?”</p>
<p>“He took me upstairs. Uh, sir.”</p>
<p>“It’s all right, Stevie,” Pierce said softly. He leaned forward and touched Steve’s elbow. “You’re frightened. I can see that. You’re an Omega. Omegas are delicate creatures. They need protection. But they have other needs, too, isn’t that right? And don’t I see to all your needs, Stevie? Answer me, now.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded his head. “Yes, sir.” He felt like he had to talk through gravel. He cleared his throat as softly as he could.</p>
<p>“Alphas also have needs. Coulson did us a both a great favor,” Pierce said. “A great favor, wouldn’t you say?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, sir,” Steve replied, thinking of the hours spent alone in Bucky’s arms.</p>
<p>Pierce chuckled. “What favor did Coulson do for you, Stevie? Tell us.”</p>
<p>Steve sensed a trap. He knew what he wanted to say, he even knew the truth, but what could he say to Pierce? Thinking quickly, and privately amazed that this occurred to him at all, he said, braving a look right into Pierce’s eyes, “He brought me to you, sir.”</p>
<p>Pierce looked thunderstruck. Steve widened his eyes briefly, as if surprised he’d been so bold, then bowed his head. There were exclamations and noises behind him, but all Steve could really hear was a rushing in his ears. He felt slightly dizzy and told himself there was nothing he needed to do but focus on Pierce. Nothing else mattered but getting through whatever was really going on.</p>
<p>Pierce apparently found his voice. “I must say, that is the sweetest thing I’ve heard anyone say in a long time. You are such a sweet, sweet girl, Stevie. A sweet girl.”</p>
<p>Steve forced a smile. It felt trembly, but he kind of thought it probably sold his lie better.</p>
<p>“I still want to know what happened,” rumbled a familiar voice from behind them. There was a spike of tropical fruit in the general odor of the room.</p>
<p>Steve froze. Rumlow. He even recognized his odor amidst the enormous amount of olfactory information here, layered in over two centuries of Alpha administrations. Pierce’s scent of smokey marshland dominated, of course, but Steve could still pick out Bucky’s log-cabin-fire. He clung to that aroma like it was the last floating plank of ship gone down in a terrible storm.</p>
<p>“Noted, Commander,” Pierce said mildly. “Stevie, I repaid Coulson’s favor by letting him spend time with you. How did you repay Coulson’s favor? What did you let Coulson do to you?”</p>
<p>Steve swallowed so hard it almost hurt. He took a deep, steadying breath. “He fed me dinner. He took me upstairs to a bedroom. He gave me a-an object, a… uh… a toy –“</p>
<p>Rumlow laughed harshly. “A <em>dildo?</em> Really, Coulson?”</p>
<p>“Go on, Stevie,” Pierce urged quietly. “He gave you a toy and then what?”</p>
<p>Steve shrugged. “He told me to use it on myself. I, uh, I did. Afterward, he said he’d clean it up. I got dressed and came back here.” That was all true.</p>
<p>“Did he talk to you about anything in particular?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, sir. He talked about his childhood in Wisconsin. He had a dog.”</p>
<p>Rumlow’s voice was deeply skeptical.  “That’s all?”</p>
<p>“Quiet, Commander,” Pierce chided softly. To Steve, he said, “Good girl. Did you enjoy your time with Coulson?”</p>
<p>Another trap. If he said he did, would Pierce think Steve meant he didn’t enjoy his time with him? If he said he didn’t, would Pierce refuse any further opportunities to spend time with Coulson, and therefore with Bucky? Probably with Bucky. There was no guaranteed that Bucky would be involved. They made no plans. They hadn’t discussed any possible future meetings.</p>
<p>Realizing he was taking too long to answer, Steve could only nod his head and then shrug. “I did, sir. It was fine.” There. ‘Fine’ had so many layers of meanings it was virtually meaningless.</p>
<p>Pierce chuckled and leaned to one side to look around Steve’s body at someone. “It was ‘fine’, Coulson. <em>Fiiiine</em>.”</p>
<p>Steve realized Coulson was being made fun of as the other Alphas laughed and Coulson sputtered, “Come on, guys! Don’t kink-shame me.”</p>
<p>“I have a question, actually,” someone piped up after the hilarity had died down.</p>
<p>“What is it, Rollins?” Pierce asked. He plucked at Steve’s sheer covering, twitching idly at the fabric, as he casually looked up and then down Steve’s body.</p>
<p>“What was Coulson doing while Stevie here was playing with the toy?” There was another round of laughter.</p>
<p>Pierce grinned. “Well, go on, Stevie. Answer the Alpha.” He tugged a little and pulled the fabric off Steve’s shoulders. It puddled on the floor by their feet. Steve was acutely aware that the Alphas behind him now had an unobstructed view of his entire backside, framed and accentuated by the thin belt, thong, garters, and trouser legs.</p>
<p>Steve felt the blood drain from his face. He felt sure that his lips were going numb. “I don’t know, sir,” he began, and then the perfect response came to him a second time. “I was using the toy.”</p>
<p>Pierce had Steve sit on his lap for the rest of the meeting. Alphas came into the room and left again, argued and laughed, got assignments and made reports. Through it all, Bucky, Rumlow, Rollins, and Coulson were the only constant attendees. When lunch was served, Pierce fed Steve from his own plate and with his own hands, encouraging Steve to lick and suck his fingers clean every few bites. At one point, he took a large swallow of soda from his glass, held it in his mouth, and then kissed Steve. With one hand, he pulled Steve’s jaw down, opening both their mouths so that the soda would flow from one to the other. Then he stroked Steve’s throat until he swallowed. Pierce began to rumble deep in his chest.</p>
<p>“Good girl,” he said, nuzzling Steve’s ear. “Such a good girl. You’ll come to my chambers tonight.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Steve breathed, focusing desperately on keeping his stomach contents inside his stomach.</p>
<p>Pierce otherwise kept Steve’s head tucked into his shoulder. With one hand on Steve’s bare hip, he used the other to gesture as he spoke to the Alphas about a plan to use Betas as support staff in the military so as to allow Alphas to fill out the depleting front-line ranks. Bucky went so far as to advocate using volunteer Betas for patrols or as guards, but Rumlow pointed out that would put them in the line of fire.</p>
<p>“No one wants to see Betas coming home in body bags,” he said.</p>
<p>“I don’t see why a Beta’s life is worth more than an Alpha’s,” Bucky replied.</p>
<p>“I agree,” Rollins said. “Have you ever seen a Beta fight? They’re vicious. Maybe we’re using the wrong soldiers.”</p>
<p>Rumlow snorted. “Just because your Beta’s got you whipped, Jack, doesn’t mean she can’t be put in her place by an Alpha. It just means you can’t.” He grinned and slapped the back of his hand against Rollins’ chest. The other Alphas chuckled.</p>
<p>Steve didn’t think he recognized the other Alphas or Betas who moved in and then out of the room, but they were generally in suits, so he assumed they were important. Coulson had mostly stayed sitting in the other chair. He never once looked over at Steve, as far as he could tell. No one did, until the lunch meeting ended with a chorus of ‘Thank you, Mr. President,’ and Steve, getting to his feet because Pierce was standing up, happened to catch Bucky glancing over at him. Their eyes met, Bucky’s expression softened, and then he turned away to say something to one of the other Alphas.</p>
<p>Unsure what to do, Steve stepped backwards out of Pierce’s path. He kept his head down and waited for instruction. As the minutes ticked on, however, and the others left the room, Coulson and Pierce began a conversation by the Resolute desk. Steve couldn’t quite make out the words. Then Coulson said, “Thank you, Mr. President,” and left the room by a different door.</p>
<p>A pause, then Pierce said, “Come here, Stevie.” Steve stood in front of the desk and Pierce waved a little impatiently. “No, over here. Stand by me.”</p>
<p>Pierce turned so that Steve stood between his knees. With his head turned down, he was staring at Pierce’s bulging crotch.</p>
<p>“You’re such a good girl, Stevie,” Pierce said. “You take everything I give you.” He laid his palm against Steve’s abdomen. “And now you’re making my wife a baby. It’s going to be an Alpha baby. I can feel it.” He unhooked the pant legs and let them pool around Steve’s ankles. “It’s going to be strong. Tough. Show me your tits, Stevie.”</p>
<p>Steve froze. What did he hear?</p>
<p>“Your tits, Stevie. Don’t make me ask again.”</p>
<p>Steve reached around behind his back and unhooked the bandeau, letting it slide away to the floor. He felt Pierce’s eyes on his chest almost like burning. His breath started to grow short as Pierce reached up with both hands, took a firm grip on both nipples, and twisted them. Steve gasped with shock and pain. He arched his back forward as Pierce tugged. He felt off-balance. Pierce kept pulling until Steve braced himself on Pierce’s upper arms. He gasped. His face was so close to Pierce’s. All he could smell was Pierce’s cologne and that heavy, fertile scent he associated with marshland.</p>
<p>“That’s it, Stevie. Climb up on my lap.”</p>
<p>Pierce shifted down in the chair so when Steve straddled him, Pierce’s cock pushed right up between Steve’s legs.</p>
<p>“Dance for me,” Pierce said. “Show me how badly you want me.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t know what he meant by ‘dance,’ but he made a guess and began moving his hips back and forth, using his groin to massage Pierce’s cock.</p>
<p>“Yes, sweetie,” Pierce groaned. He gave up pinching Steve’s nipples and palmed his breasts instead. The warmth soothed the abused skin and Steve couldn’t help a small gasp. “That’s it. Keep dancing for my cock. Sit up now.”</p>
<p>Steve had to put a hand on the desk next to them in order to keep his balance while Pierce lifted up to unfasten his pants and pull out his cock. Pierce gave himself a few good strokes. Steve saw the color of Pierce’s cock darken to bluish-purple as the knot twitched.</p>
<p>“Take off your panty.”</p>
<p>Steve obeyed with nervous fingers. The drapes were open. The doors were unlocked. Surely anyone could just walk in and see them there? <em>Obey, obey, obey, </em>he told himself. He let the sticky panty fall to the floor.</p>
<p>“And the belt. Get completely naked, Stevie. I want you naked.”</p>
<p>Steve realized he had lost the shoes at some point. The belt came off. He was nude, his hips still dancing, and the president was starting to smell intoxicating. The marshy smell was thick, but it suggested fertility, growth, and potential power. He took a deep breath, giving up any stray thought of fighting, and lifted his hips when Pierce lifted his cock. Together, they fit cock into pussy, and gravity pulled Steve down.</p>
<p>He fell into Pierce’s arms. It felt so good to be full, to be held by an Alpha, even to be naked while the Alpha was almost fully clothed. The Alpha cupped Steve’s ass in his hands. He squeezed each handful and urged Steve’s hips to move more vigorously up and down and back and forth. “Fuck yourself,” Steve heard the Alpha say. “Please me.”</p>
<p>Steve buried his face in the Alpha’s neck. He knew this smell. This was the smell of the main Alpha. The powerful Alpha. The one Alpha all the other Alphas bowed down to. There was a part of Steve, deep in his Omega soul, that responded to that power, that made him gush a little more slick, that made him shudder just a little more, and then he opened his eyes and looked outside and lost himself again.</p>
<p>Standing outside the French doors, clearly hesitating, stood Bucky. He was looking right at Steve, desperate around the edges, a little lost, a little frustrated. Steve started moving more urgently on Pierce’s cock. He kept staring over the back of the chair at Bucky outside on the loggia. Then he imagined Bucky coming inside the room, Bucky being inside the room, Bucky sitting in the president’s chair mostly dressed while a naked Steve danced on his cock as the world went on around them. Someone else would be standing there, staring, jealous. Someone else would want to be in that chair, fucking into Steve, making Steve shout like Bucky should be doing, was doing.</p>
<p>He remembered how it felt to have Bucky’s cock inside him when he wasn’t in heat, when he could feel everything and it all felt good. Bucky had urged Steve to ride him, to take his own pleasure while Bucky just looked up at him. He’d urged Steve to caress and fondle his own breasts and Steve had plumped up his flesh and offered it to Bucky and that had set off an explosive series of events that ended up with Bucky almost mindlessly pumping into Steve’s heat while he half-hung off the edge of the bed, reveling in the stretch of his body, the jiggle of his breasts in the air – and Steve came, his hands on his breasts, Pierce’s mouth sucking hard on his right nipple, Pierce’s hand mashing his left buttock, and Steve’s eyes locked on Bucky’s.</p>
<p>“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Pierce gasped and went rigid in the chair. He still had one hand on Steve’s ass and the other gripping his ribcage. Steve felt the knot swelling, sealing itself into his body, and then Pierce was coming. Steve risked a glanced at the president’s face.</p>
<p>Pierce was blissed out. His face was slack with pleasure, his eyes drifting almost closed. “Jesus,” he breathed. “You’re fantastic. So tight. So genuine.” He panted a little and opened his eyes. “I think I’m going to keep you.”</p>
<p>Steve, realizing he was making eye contact, nevertheless risked a small smile. “Thank you, sir,” he said quietly, getting himself under control. “I guess I was inspired.”</p>
<p>“Ohh, you’re killing me,” Pierce said with a chuckle. “Move on me some more. Really work my knot.”</p>
<p>Not sure how to do that on purpose, Steve shifted his position and then tried tightening his internal muscles.</p>
<p>“You’re getting it,” Pierce said with a groan. He let his eyelids droop. “You’re getting it. Good girl. Such a good, obedient girl.”</p>
<p>Steve dipped his chin, wanting to appear overwhelmed by the president’s good regard. He laid his palms on the lapels of Pierce’s jacket.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Pierce said, his hands now stroking Steve’s breasts. He flicked at the nipples. “I’d like to pierce these, run a chain between them, or dangle little ornaments for the holidays, except I think that would interfere with nursing. I’ll check with the doctor. There has to be a way around it.”</p>
<p>Steve tried to imagine piercing his nipples. It sounded painful.</p>
<p>“I could always pierce your cocklet,” he went on, looking down at Steve’s phallus where it lay quiescent against Pierce’s suit pants. “That wouldn’t interfere with anything. I could put a bell on it. Or a nice hoop. That’s how they do it in Europe now, you know. They pierce the cocklet and tie it up to the belt. No panty. Instead, they decorate the little shaft with jewelry. I’ve even seen some with tattoos. Would you like a tattooed cocklet, Stevie?”</p>
<p>Alarmed, Steve could only shake his head ‘no.’</p>
<p>Pierce chuckled. “That’s all a discussion for me to have with your doctor later, anyway. You should only concern yourself with being pretty for me.”</p>
<p>With that, Pierce’s knot slipped out, a rush of fluid following after. “Ugh, what a mess you’ve made,” Pierce said, pushing Steve off his lap. “Clean that up.”</p>
<p>Steve saw a box of tissues on the credenza behind them, but Pierce stopped him. “With your mouth. Don’t let my seed go to waste.”</p>
<p>Steve froze, then nodded as he fell unsteadily to his knees. He took another good look at the president’s cock, covered over in sticky white fluid. He stuck out his tongue and leaned forward. Pierce’s cock was wrinkling as it shrunk. Luckily, it didn’t taste bad, exactly. Some of it even tasted kind of sweet. As he began to settle into his task, he heard Pierce snap his fingers and a door open.</p>
<p>“Come in, Commander,” Pierce said. “Let’s have that meeting now.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Mr. President.”</p>
<p>Steve was grateful he had his face buried in the President’s crotch because he didn’t think he could bear to see what Bucky must think of him now.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The ability to give a report or have a discussion while a superior office was engaged in personal activity had been drummed into every recruit at boot camp. From time to time, that skill had come in handy. He’d given reports to officers who were getting intimate medical exams, pissing behind a tree, or groaning through diarrhea, and once, while stationed in Germany years ago, had to interrupt an orgy with news of an assassination attempt on the British Prime Minister. Still, he’d never been more thankful for his practiced poker face until he was in the Oval Office discussing plans for an upcoming state visit to Japan while the president’s cock was getting cleaned off by an Omega. Especially this Omega.</p>
<p>He ran through the itinerary, answered some questions about Air Force One’s readiness, and then added on that he himself was packed and ready to go along.</p>
<p>“Oh, you’re not going along,” Pierce said. “You’re staying here.”</p>
<p>“Sir?” Bucky had been put in charge of preparations for the trip. Why wouldn’t he be going along?</p>
<p>“It’s not ideal,” Pierce said. “The Japs want to meet the Hero of Atlanta and I want to show you off, but Rebirth is ramping up. The doctors want to put you through some more tests first. Get a better baseline of your abilities and whatnot before moving on to the next finalist. Can’t have you out of the country for eighteen days fucking around the Orient when you could be here forwarding the cause of science.”</p>
<p>“Understood, sir.”</p>
<p>Pierce gazed down at the blond head bobbing in his lap. He ran his fingers through the golden hair. Bucky thought the president looked almost besotted. He tried to think of that as a good thing. It was good if Pierce had feelings for Steve. It was good if Pierce looked after Steve, kept him safe, kept him out of trouble. It hurt like motherfucking hell that Bucky couldn’t do it himself, but it was good that it was happening at all.</p>
<p>Bucky watched as Pierce lifted Steve’s head and told him to get his things and go. Steve hurried to follow orders. He slipped on his clothes, fastening the hooks and stepping into the sandals before backing up a few paces from Pierce’s chair. He was clearly looking for something. Bucky realized a split-second later Steve was looking for his cloak. He turned and there it was, still in a puddle of fabric on the carpet.</p>
<p>“Here you go,” Bucky said softly, scooping up the cloak in one hand and holding it so it hung loose. Steve’s face was down as he approached arm outstretched. He bobbed his head and might have said ‘thank you’ before slipping the fabric over his shoulders and darting outside onto the loggia.</p>
<p>“Such a sweet girl, don’t you think?” Pierce asked as the doors closed.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Bucky replied. “She’ll make beautiful babies.”</p>
<p>“Of course, she will. Now, let’s talk more about the project.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Recon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bucky and Steve each make troubling discoveries.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The president and his team left on their state visit to Japan two days later. His team included Rumlow and Rollins, and also the First Lady and her personal assistant, Angie. A number of other staffers went along as well, including several speechwriters, the press pool, administrative aides, and of those that remained behind, about half took vacations. Therefore, it was as close to a skeleton crew left in the White House as Bucky had seen yet. There was no delay at the metal detectors, no line at the coffee bar in the commissary, and also no idle chatter on his way down to his remote basement office. In fact, and he double-checked by knocking and then trying to open every door, there was no one else working in the basement at all. Just him.</p>
<p>It was almost too good to be true.</p>
<p>Bucky made sure to perform his morning rituals exactly the same as always. He hung up his jacket, he turned on his laptop, he checked his emails, he drank his coffee, he ate his bagel. He used the internal messaging system to reach out to Coulson’s assistant for her boss’s schedule. She confirmed that he was in the air until Air Force One landed in Okinawa in approximately fourteen hours. He made sure to write and send an email requesting a Zoom meeting within the next three days.</p>
<p>After that, he stretched as ostentatiously as he could permit himself, then headed out of his office, being sure to leave his desk lamp on and the door slightly ajar. In the hallway, he moved to stand in a particular spot he’d scoped out long before that was out of range of all five cameras that watched this corridor. He pulled out his phone, called up the app labeled ‘Ant Farm,’ played a level, bought an extra skill, then closed the app and waited two minutes just to be certain. He looked down the long empty hallway toward the stairs. The overhead light closest to the landing had just gone out, part of the power-saving system. Ten or so seconds later, the next light went out, and so forth until the light above Bucky also went out, leaving him and the hallway in relative darkness, emergency lights now the only illumination.</p>
<p>Bucky took a deep breath and stepped into the middle of the hallway and flapped his arms. When the overhead light didn’t come back on, he smiled with genuine relief. “Thank you, Tony,” he said softly, and then moved to the other end of the corridor, away from the stairs, toward the semisecret entrance to the semisecret underground tunnels that connected certain government buildings, including the White House, with certain other buildings, including a particular laboratory.</p>
<p>It wasn’t that Bucky wasn’t allowed to visit the lab. He had appointments there every other day to monitor his health, his condition, his fitness and readiness for the project. It wasn’t that he wasn’t allowed to take this particular route to the lab. It was the most direct route from the White House, though not the most commonly traversed one. It was that Bucky didn’t want anyone to know he was going to the lab that day, or, really, any day that he wasn’t supposed to. There were things he needed to be able to do there that he needed to be sure no one knew about. This was just the first hurdle to accomplishing those things.</p>
<p>As Bucky walked down the semisecret underground corridor, his rubber-soled shoes making soft little <em>whick-whick</em> sounds on the concrete, he thought briefly of all the presidents and top officials who’d used these corridors in the past, either to conduct affairs or simply to avoid traffic. The corridor, at least the length of a football field, connected the White House to the Old Executive Office Building. About halfway or so, a plain door with a security lock led to a 15 square foot vestibule that opened onto a bunker that had been built during the Cold War. Originally designed to withstand a direct nuclear blast, this bunker was not just buried a good fifty feet or so underground, but it was encased in concrete, lined with lead, and powered by its own set of generators. The template for a hydroponic garden had been laid out, as well as dormitories for two hundred people. Most of that hadn’t been built, of course. It wasn’t always easy to hide large expenditures in the budget, especially after the Nixon Administration.</p>
<p>The part that had been completed had been turned into a well-equipped laboratory suite complete with offices, isolation units, water and air purification systems, and an incinerator. The original vault-style door, built and designed to withstand a direct, sustained attack by the most powerful weapons an imaginative weapons designer in 1960 could dream up, stood open in the vestibule. As far as Bucky knew, no one had so much as moved the thick metal door since 1963, not even to replace the linoleum flooring with fancy poured concrete in 2009. The original discolored material was still visible beneath the heavy door.</p>
<p>The lab was typically occupied by four scientists and at least eight technicians. But, all these people also liked to take time off, so today no one was in the lab at all.</p>
<p>Bucky’s keycode would still work to get him through the security door, but he used Dr. Sterns’s anyway. Sterns was careless with his passwords, writing them down on sticky-notes he left everywhere. Bucky didn’t understand how he could keep forgetting them, since they were all variants on the same theme: Paul Villard, born 9/28/1860, died 1/13/1934, discovered gamma radiation in 1900. It was simple. The code to the main door? 18601934. The code to his locked file cabinets? 092860. His personal code for each of the machines? 1900. His intranet access? VILLARDROX.</p>
<p>Bucky felt vaguely idiotic typing that but getting into Sterns’ computer meant he had full access to the lab’s intranet and that was what ultimately mattered.</p>
<p>Since the secure outermost door locked automatically, and the lab had no internal security, Bucky felt comfortable moving around, sitting at the desk in Sterns’ office, and uploading a program to the internal server using Sterns’ computer. He had to play another three rounds of Ant Farm (one of which he had to replay twice to beat – <em>thanks, Tony</em>) and use the special power-up he’d bought before in order to get the upload started. He left his phone on the desk and wandered around the lab.</p>
<p>He was careful. Finding his fingerprints on anything wouldn’t cause too much concern since he was legitimately allowed to be there, but he didn’t want to push it. The front of the lab had been set up as a small reception-cum-break room area with two long couches and a fake potted plant next to a table with a coffee machine and a dorm-sized refrigerator. It wasn’t much, but Schmidt did bring in kopi luwak from time to time and every Friday Zola brought in fancy pastries which livened things up. Just past this area were the long tables where the nameless lab technicians worked. There were eight of them, all interns from Georgetown Medical who had signed thorough NDAs. Bucky’d never been properly introduced to them. They never spoke to him either, so he supposed it all worked out.</p>
<p>Directly behind the lab techs was the first isolation and testing chamber. Bucky was glad he hadn’t been present for the earliest stages of the animal testing portion of the project; he was just relieved the current formula wouldn’t outright kill him. Probably wouldn’t. There was a ‘greater than 80% chance’ it wouldn’t. Currently.</p>
<p>Next were the offices for the four main scientists, two on each side of the main chamber where Killian was building the capsule. Bucky’s phone was doing its thing in Sterns’ office while Bucky himself stared up at the capsule, thinking again that it looked like an open casket, only much less comfortable. The lid stood upright against the wall a few feet away, wires and cords dangling. The whole thing was made of iron, lead and aluminum, all treated to be nontoxic, of course. The last thing anyone wanted was lead poisoning.</p>
<p>The base of the capsule was currently in its ‘down’ position, so that Killian could reach all the hookups and controls. The capsule would tilt to an 85-degree angle to allow the person to step inside it easily, then tilt back flat during the procedure. Surrounding the capsule were dozens of tubes and wires and cables hooked up to generators and power strips and batteries. If it had been more elegantly crafted, if there were brass and copper fittings, it might look like steampunk. Instead, the whole apparatus looked cold, callous, and almost cruel.</p>
<p>Bucky stared at the capsule for a long time.</p>
<p>There were more rooms further on, including the chemistry lab where the base chemicals themselves were being mixed and poured into special tanks which would then distill the serum. Each ten-gallon tank of chemical soup would eventually produce one ounce of serum. Project Rebirth was an expensive proposition.</p>
<p>But if it worked? If it worked, it would change the world. Pierce and Schmidt and the others were right. If they could make soldiers who were stronger, faster, smarter? If those soldiers were harder to injure and faster to heal? How could any nation not investigate this potential resource? Which was not to mention the ancillary benefits, as Sterns would insist on pointing out. The serum could potentially end genetic defects, cure cancers, heal the sick and injured all over the world. They could provide new lives to billions of people. They could bring peace.</p>
<p>Bucky remembered what the president had said the first time Sterns had gone off on that idealistic spiel in Pierce’s presence. “Absolutely, Doctor,” he’d said, his eyes alive with excitement. “And they’ll have to come to us for it. Meet our terms. I’m glad you understand. Remember, though, that peace is not an achievement. It’s a responsibility. This serum is a burden we will have to bear as Americans.”</p>
<p>The memory sometimes kept him up at night.</p>
<p>The current estimate was another ten weeks of testing while the chemical soup produced enough serum. Two of the interns were working on ways to speed up the distillation process, Bucky knew. They were having some sort of competition about it which was being recorded on a white board in their area. Schmidt, the head of the project, encouraged their competition and promised the winner a permanent spot on the team. Bucky supposed that was a decent enticement.</p>
<p>He figured the app might be done by now, so he turned and was about to go check his phone when he caught sight of something reflective in Schmidt’s office. He froze. Was it a camera? Some other kind of recording device? He knew there wasn’t any such security in the lab itself, as it had been built long before such things were standard and retrofitting one into the lab was not cost-efficient. Schmidt had even gone off on a rant once about the importance of not documenting every step along the scientific journey, as any mistakes would only be used by the uneducated to suggest the scientific process was fallible.</p>
<p>Still.</p>
<p>He licked his lips and ran through his options. He had every right to be there. He was just walking around. If he was asked about being on Sterns’ computer, well… he could just say he was going to play a prank on the squirrelly little guy. That would make the other three, who were much more typically Alpha, laugh. Sterns was the sort of Alpha who was teased as a child for being too much like an O. Bucky hated to side with a bully, but if it came down to it, for this? He would.</p>
<p>He tilted his head and looked curious. It was obvious from his initial reaction that he’d seen whatever it was, so he may as well be obvious about finding it. He moved closer, stepping into Schmidt’s office, flipping on the light.</p>
<p>There it was.</p>
<p>Staring at him.</p>
<p>A small stuffed animal in the shape of a bear. It had on a navy blue coat and was wearing a bandit mask across its face. The ambient light from the main lab had been reflecting on one of its plastic eyes.</p>
<p>Bucky picked it up. “Well, aren’t you adorable?” he said, giving it a little squeeze. It had a soft, plush tummy that sprang back into shape when he let go. He went for broke and started squeezing the bear’s arms, legs, head. He found nothing to suggest there was anything mechanical inside the bear. He exaggerated a frown, then a shrug, then held the bear tight in his arm, keeping the face pressed against his chest. He hurried, then, to check the upper cabinets, drawers and underneath Schmidt’s desk, but everything was locked and nothing else was left out on the desk but Schmidt’s computer equipment. Bucky looked at the bear one more time.</p>
<p>The bear had an inquisitive expression that Bucky honestly did find adorable. He didn’t understand the costuming, but assumed it was from some children’s program. He wondered if Steve’s child would one day have a stuffed bear like this one. Suddenly, he was overcome with a powerful yearning. He wanted to go to Steve right then, hold him, make sure he was comfortable, press a hand to his abdomen and send well-wishes to the developing embryo. He wanted to play catch in the back yard while Steve got dinner ready. He wanted to chase monsters out of the closet and sit nearby while Steve read a bedtime story.</p>
<p>He had to put the bear down and walk back to the capsule, forcibly reminding himself of why he was there and what he needed to do.</p>
<p>Faintly, he heard a cheerful six-note tune from Sterns’ office. The app was done.</p>
<p>Bucky took another half hour or so to do a perfunctory search of the other scientists’ offices. Like Zola and Schmidt, Killian believed in a paperless office. Sterns had all his sticky notes with all his passwords, his grocery lists, his reminders to take his cat to the vet or pick up its medication. There was only one message that stood out to Bucky. It read: MrGreen – Check Results 2x.</p>
<p>It meant nothing to him now, but he mentally filed it anyway.</p>
<p>The chemical lab was as equally tidy as the small medical exam office where Bucky got his regular check-ups. There was nothing unexpected in either of the two restrooms, the storage closet, or the mechanical room. He made sure he had his phone in his pocket as he walked back out of the lab into the underground tunnel. Spying must have been so much easier back when everyone had to use paper.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Coulson made time for Bucky, but they had to meet at 4 PM, which was 5 AM in Tokyo. The video quality was good, and Bucky was pleased to see Coulson wore a faded t-shirt to bed. He looked rumpled. It was kind of cute.</p>
<p>“How’s Japan?”</p>
<p>“It’s a magical place,” Coulson replied. “What’s this meeting for, Barnes?”</p>
<p>“Just checking in, sir. I wanted to confirm that there were two final candidates, yes?” Bucky asked. “Just two?” He glanced at his open laptop which displayed three sets of test results. Bucky was reasonably certain he knew which were his results and which were probably Rumlow’s, but what about that third set? The one with the poor physical scores?</p>
<p>“Of course,” Coulson said, rubbing a hand over his face. “The doctors were highly selective.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded and tapped three fingers against his sternum. “I’m concerned about Schmidt’s attitude, sir,” he said. “I’m not sure he’s got the FSA’s best interests at heart. You asked for proof, but all I’ve got is a strong feeling.”</p>
<p>“I can’t go to the president without anything concrete. You know that,” Coulson replied easily. He gulped something out of a delicate looking cup. “Have you talked to any of the others?”</p>
<p>Bucky dropped his hand to his desk. “I’m not prepared to do that. I don’t want them to get distracted when they’re so close to getting this project finally done.”</p>
<p>“There’s not much I can do about that from here.”</p>
<p>“Everything’s on schedule?”</p>
<p>“That’s what they tell me.”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled. “Good. We’re going to get that trade deal signed, do you think?”</p>
<p>Coulson shrugged. “Probably. It’s up to the president. I’m just here to facilitate.”</p>
<p>“Well, that was it. Good luck, sir.”</p>
<p>“Message me if anything happens.”</p>
<p>Bucky closed down the connection and sat quietly in his office, lost in thought, until his screens went black.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The next day, after lunch, Bucky took the long way back toward the basement, through the warren of cubicles and conference rooms that made the first floor of the White House into an exquisitely decorated yet somewhat shabby office building. A tour group of school children was going through the Blue Room. He listened as their guide gushed about the crystals in the chandeliers, the portraits of George and Martha Washington, the Steinway, as well as some of the historical events that had occurred in the room itself. Some of the children were wide-eyed, many were politely bored. Then the tour guide told them that Abigail Adams used to hang her wash in the room, and that made the children laugh.</p>
<p>In about ten years, Steve’s child might be on this tour, he thought, and something in his gut felt hollowed-out. He needed to see Steve, make sure he was okay.</p>
<p>The tour group was moving on to the Green Room. Bucky turned down a different hallway. In under ten minutes, he was approaching the private solarium on the second floor. Two black-uniformed federal guards stood outside the closed door. One met Bucky’s eyes as he approached.</p>
<p>“We can’t let you in, Commander,” he said. “Occupato, if you know what I mean.”</p>
<p>Bucky sized up the guard. He was young, maybe twenty-five. His companion was even younger. They were new to the federal service, which wasn’t known for requiring their recruits to be terribly intelligent. “Let me in anyway. I have a message for the President’s Omega,” he said, doing his best to radiate honesty and authority. “It shouldn’t take long.”</p>
<p>The guard frowned. “Why would she be getting messages? She doesn’t do anything but get on her knees.”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled without using any goodwill. “It’s a message for the Omega. It doesn’t have to meet with your approval.”</p>
<p>The younger guard shot a meaningful look at the older guard. “Come on, man! That’s Commander Barnes. He’s, like, a hero. Don’t be such a jerk.”</p>
<p>“I’m not being a jerk, you douchebag. I’m following orders!”</p>
<p>“The orders were to make sure she stays in there.”</p>
<p>“And that no one disturbs her. <em>No</em>. <em>One</em>.”</p>
<p>“<em>Disturbs</em>. Commander, are you going to disturb her?”</p>
<p>Bucky’d been amused by the back and forth. Clearly, these two were stellar additions to the Federal Police Force. “No. I’m not going to disturb her at all.”</p>
<p>“You can go in, sir,” the younger guard said. He glared at his partner. “Jesus, bro. You need to relax.”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t hear the older guard’s response since he’d darted inside the solarium and closed the door firmly behind him. The solarium was warm, the air fragrant with blooming flowers. Out of habit, he visually checked each possible entrance and sightline as he walked toward the chaise lounges facing the angled glass walls. There, sitting up and staring wide-eyed at him, was Steve.</p>
<p>“What’s going on? Where’s Frick and/or Frack?”</p>
<p>“Who, them?” Bucky jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re standing guard. Nothing’s wrong. Hi. How are you?”</p>
<p>A small smile quirked up on one side of Steve’s soft, pink mouth. “Hi. I’m fine. How are you?”</p>
<p>There was a second chaise by Steve’s. Bucky sat down on it sideways, facing him. “You look good,” he said, taking in the healthy glow of his skin, the increased softness around his shoulders and clavicle, the new sturdiness to his frame. Steve would probably never be muscular, but at least he looked much less skeletal. Plus, there was the usual matching bandeau and panty set, this time in a rich brown intertwined with gold and green. It made his skin tone creamier. “You look real good.”</p>
<p>“What, this old thing?” Steve plucked at the hem of his not-quite-sheer wrap. “I only wear this when I don’t care how I look.” He grinned at Bucky.</p>
<p>Bucky grinned back. Something about that line sounded familiar. “What’s that from?” he asked. “I feel like I’ve heard that before.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed. “<em>It’s a Wonderful Life</em>,” he said. “My mother and I watch it every Christmas. I mean, we used to.”</p>
<p>Something dimmed in Steve’s smile when he mentioned his mother. Bucky remembered Coulson telling him that Steve’s mother had been executed for the crime of smuggling an Omega (Steve), failure to register him for a bond, failure to apply for a corrected birth certificate, etc., in other words, the usual collection of charges applied against a parent trying to take their Omega child out of the country, with the usual penalty. He needed to change the subject quick.</p>
<p>“I was hoping to find you alone.”</p>
<p>“I’m always alone,” Steve replied evenly. “Especially since they’ve gone on their trip.”</p>
<p>“Yes, well, they need to seal this trade deal with Japan if they’re going to have any chance at an economic recovery.”</p>
<p>“What? They went to Japan?”</p>
<p>“They didn’t tell you?”</p>
<p>Steve gave him a flat look. “You think they discuss their travel plans with me? Angie didn’t even know. Or didn’t let on she knew. Maybe she knew. She probably knew. It doesn’t matter. No one tells me anything.”</p>
<p>An excellent segue. “You hear more than you think.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Just that. They talk in front of you. Every night after dinner, you said. You said they talk politics afterward.”</p>
<p>Steve shifted on the chaise, drawing one leg up under his body and curling the other around his knee protectively. “Did I?”</p>
<p>“You did.” Bucky’s heart started to thud in his chest. Had he gotten this wrong? “You even mentioned a few incidents. Sandy Springs. Charleston. A fight club?”</p>
<p>Steve’s penetrating gaze never wavered. “So what if I did? What’s it to you?”</p>
<p>Bucky leaned forward. “Steve,” he said, “it could be nothing. But it could be everything. And I’m hoping it’s everything.”</p>
<p>Steve leaned forward, too. Their faces were maybe a hand’s breadth apart. “Everything? What do you mean? What’s everything?”</p>
<p>“Steve,” Bucky whispered, barely moving his lips, “Is this what you wanted? Did you hope to end up here?”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, in the White House? Not hardly.” He chuckled and glanced away.</p>
<p>“Not just in the White House,” Bucky said, as quietly serious as ever. “As the bonded Omega to a married couple.”</p>
<p>“I’m not bonded.” Steve stared at him, all trace of good humor gone.</p>
<p>Bucky just looked at him.</p>
<p>He sat up straighter. “I’m not. There was no bonding. There was no ceremony.” He stared back, eyes wide, his hands in fists in his lap.</p>
<p>“Sweetheart.” Bucky laid a hand on Steve’s fist, urging him to relax his fingers. “There was a ceremony. You are bonded. You just weren’t there for it.”</p>
<p>Bucky watched as shock caused Steve’s jaw to literally drop. “I’m sorry, what? I wasn’t, what? ‘There’… what?” Steve scrambled backward off the chaise and took several steps away before turning in a complete circle and then bending forward, clutching his stomach. “I… what?”</p>
<p>“Fuck.” Bucky was on his feet and pulling Steve into his arms before he could consciously make the decision to offer comfort. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I thought they would have told you.”</p>
<p>Steve’s entire body shook with either anger or despair. He pushed himself away from Bucky and stared up at him. His face was blotchy and his eyes lit up with rage. “No. One. Tells. Me. <em>Anything!</em> Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand? They don’t tell me shit. I’m nothing to them. Less than nothing. This!” He held his hands to his belly. “This is what’s important to them. This is all they care about. No one cares about me. No one gives a damn about me. The only one who ever did is <em>dead</em> and they killed her!”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey,” Bucky said, trying to be supportive and soothing while still getting Steve to keep it down. “I get it, okay? I do get it. But you need to be quiet or Officers Frick and Frack are going to come in here and kick me out and then I’ll be in for some shit.”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that,” Steve said hoarsely, managing to shout in a whisper. “God forbid you get into any shit. God forbid an Alpha suffer. Not in this country!”</p>
<p>Well, he told himself, at least Steve had the presence of mind to keep their conversation private. “I’m not saying that. I’m trying to tell you something else. I’m not trying to upset you. I didn’t know you didn’t know but now I know and I’ll be more careful about that going forward. That’s the best I can do, okay? Honestly, Steve. I honestly just want to help you.” Steve had visibly calmed down. The blotchiness on his face was fading and the anger had been banked. “I care about you. You know that. I want to help you. I think we can help each other. Will you listen to me now? Or should we make plans to meet again tomorrow?”</p>
<p>Steve took a deep breath, then another. He nodded. “We can talk now,” he said. “I guess. Get it over with.” In a swirl of shiny fabric, he returned to the chaise lounge.</p>
<p>Bucky hid his smile, but he’d always been drawn to Omegas who were in touch with their feelings. He sat down again to face Steve, sideways on the chaise, elbows on his knees. He took a deep breath and said, “Okay, so you were legally bonded the day you got here. That morning, there was an announcement and some video of the signing. As an orphan, your interests were represented by the head of Omega Services. She signed for you. It was all as legal and official as it could be. You know. Given that you weren’t actually there.”</p>
<p>Steve wiped away fresh tears, his mouth a straight line. “Sure. Of course. Just how every young Omega dreams their bonding will be. Get on with it.”</p>
<p>“Right, okay,” Bucky said. He bowed his head and looked up at Steve through his eyelashes. “I’m not really here. I’m not an official member of this administration. My being here is kind of a secret.” He watched as Steve reacted to that news by crossing his arms and refolding his legs.</p>
<p>“Here in the solarium or here in DC or…?”</p>
<p>“In DC. In the White House, specifically.”</p>
<p>“Go on.”</p>
<p>“Officially, I’m on special assignment from the Army, which means that I don’t have regular duties, don’t report in. Officially, I’m acting as a special advisor to the Joint Chiefs. The only people who know what I’m really doing are the ones who need to know. Even a lot of the people here aren’t sure why I’m here, if they even know who I am or where I’m supposed to be. I think most people think I’m just a Pentagon liaison or something.”</p>
<p>Steve shrugged. “I don’t really think about it.”</p>
<p>“No reason for you to,” Bucky agreed. “I’m here for a specific reason, though. It’s a secret project, codenamed Rebirth. I’ve been put forward to be the recipient of some cutting-edge technology. Sort of like a test pilot for it.”</p>
<p>“Sounds prestigious.”</p>
<p>“It is. It will be, anyway, assuming they go through with their promise and select me for it.” Bucky grimaced. “I’m not the only one up for selection. I heard Rumlow’s up for it, too.”</p>
<p>“Rumlow?” Steve’s expression turned sour. He folded his arms more tightly around his waist.</p>
<p>“He’s more than earned his shot at it,” Bucky said frankly, then smirked. “But he’s a lot older than I am –“</p>
<p>“He is?”</p>
<p>“He’s forty-six,” Bucky said, his smirk fading. “I turn twenty-eight next March!” He couldn’t immediately figure out if it were a compliment to him or Rumlow that Steve thought they looked the same age, but Rumlow had much more rugged features. He’d probably looked thirty when he was fifteen. Bucky’d always been accused of being pretty which often translated to young. How could they – then Steve grinned at him. “You little shit!”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Steve said, starting to laugh. “I couldn’t help myself. You were clearly fishing.” He shifted again, unfolding his legs and setting his bare feet on the floor.</p>
<p>“I was not.” Then, aware he sounded childish, moved on. “I want to be chosen for this project. It’s dangerous and might not work, but it probably will and if it does, I’d much rather I be the successful candidate than Rumlow. Honestly, I think we all would.”</p>
<p>Steve frowned and rested his own elbows on his knees. “But if it’s a weapon, what does it matter who wields it?”</p>
<p>“It’s more specialized than that. It’s not like a gun. It can’t just be picked up by anyone and used.” Bucky noticed that their hands were now very close together.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t seem practical,” Steve said, “to make a weapon that can only be handled by one person. Once that person dies, what are you supposed to do with the weapon then?”</p>
<p>Bucky really didn’t want to get into details about Rebirth. If it were known that Bucky had spoken about it in any detail with someone other than the president himself or one the scientists or interns on the project, he could be charged with treason. It was all quite clearly spelled out in the NDA he had to sign. Even Coulson didn’t know everything about the project, though he knew enough to urge extreme caution on Bucky’s part. “Yeah, that’s a concern,” he allowed. “I mean, no one wants to die.” He tried a smile, but Steve didn’t seem swayed by it.</p>
<p>“So why do you want it to be you? Fame and glory?”</p>
<p>“No,” Bucky said honestly. “I have other reasons. I know that whoever has this technology could win the war faster and with fewer casualties.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that what they said about the atomic bomb?”</p>
<p>“Uh…”</p>
<p>“Never mind. So you want this technology for yourself.”</p>
<p>Bucky wasn’t sure this was going well. “Not like that. Not for personal reasons. I just know it’ll be safer with me than with anyone else. Especially Rumlow. I can’t go into more details. It wouldn’t be safe for you.”</p>
<p>“Because it’s a secret,” Steve said. Off Bucky’s nod, he added, “Like, top secret? Like, ‘if I tell you I have to kill you’ secret?”</p>
<p>“Exactly. Except I’m not aiming to kill you.” He tried another smile. Steve responded to that one, at least.</p>
<p>“What’s to stop me from telling someone you told me all about Rebirth?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Bucky said, meeting Steve’s gaze levelly. “You could tell everyone. But I don’t think you will. It’d mean Rumlow would get the spot instead of me. It’d mean consequences for you, but I wouldn’t want to guess what those might be. I trust you. You didn’t tell them about meeting me at Coulson’s. You didn’t tell them that Coulson didn’t touch you.”</p>
<p>“They didn’t ask me that,” Steve said, spreading his hands wide helplessly. “I just told them what they asked me.”</p>
<p>Bucky grinned. “That’s exactly right. And if you keep going in that direction, you’ll get through this.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded slowly. “Except, I still don’t know what you need me for.”</p>
<p>“Information.” Bucky reminded Steve that the Pierces often discussed problems in front of him. If Steve could just pay more attention to those discussions, and then share that information with Bucky, he’d probably get better intel faster than relying on rumors and hearsay.</p>
<p>“They talk about a lot of different things,” Steve said. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging gently at the ends that curled across his collarbones. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard them discuss Rebirth, or any project, when they’re alone.”</p>
<p>“They might,” Bucky said. “Or they might be talking about it circumspectly. In code. Or even just about me or Rumlow or any other candidates in general. Anything would be helpful. I need every advantage to get this spot ahead of him.”</p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t they choose you?” Steve asked. “Rumlow’s…. Rumlow. He doesn’t strike me as very, um… good soldier-ish.”</p>
<p>He had to chuckle. “Actually, he’s an excellent soldier with a tremendous service record. He’s exactly what the Army wants him to be – ambitious, daring, effective. He’s been given difficult assignments and managed to pull everyone’s fat out of the fryer time and again. His training scores were the best for a long time, and his mission success record is, frankly, enviable. There’s no reason for him not to get the nod.”</p>
<p>Steve looked at him carefully. “They were the best… Whose are the best now?”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t blush. “Mine are. I’m a good candidate, too. I just don’t have the resume he does.”</p>
<p>“Apparently, you’re also more than fifteen years younger, so… yeah. I wouldn’t expect you to.” He ran his hands along the tops of his thighs.</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. “That’s a big part of it. I’m healthier than he is by virtue of being younger. He’s had more injuries, shakes off damage less easily.” He shrugged. “This is why it could go either way. I need your help. If you’re able, will you help me?” He turned his right hand over, palm-side up, in supplication.</p>
<p>Steve looked at Bucky’s palm and then placed his own hand on top of it. “Sure, Buck,” he said. “I’ll do whatever I can. I just don’t know that it’ll be much.”</p>
<p>He adjusted their grip, threading their fingers together gently. “I’ll take whatever help you can give me.”</p>
<p>They were silent for a long moment, just holding hands. Steve’s head shot up and he started to ask a question when they both froze; the door to the solarium was opening and Frick and Frack were walking inside. Bucky dropped Steve’s hand and turned, drawing the officers’ attention away from Steve.</p>
<p>“Time’s up,” the older one said. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>Bucky and Steve got to their feet. “I’ll see you again tomorrow,” Bucky said firmly, “for your reply.”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes were huge and very, very blue when he looked up at Bucky and said, “Tomorrow. Absolutely.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The rest of the day, all Steve could do was obsess about Rebirth. He’d quickly dismissed the idea of getting Bucky in trouble. He wasn’t so petty as to snitch on someone just because he could. Furthermore, he’d never believed that an unjust law was one worth following. That left him with actively helping Bucky or simply not doing anything. He could always just focus on himself, his own safety, his future child’s safety.</p>
<p>He wasn’t ignorant of the fact that he was safe only because he was pregnant. He didn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t managed to get knocked up during his heat. Would they have waited for his next one and tried again? Would they induce a heat? Or would they get rid of him and start all over with someone else? There were too many possibilities and too many of them were going to be bad for Steve’s health. Fertility treatments were notorious for ravaging Omega’s physiology. Steve had heard horror stories from his mother about Omegas who’d had their heats induced too many times and then got stuck, their hormones burning up their reserves until they went comatose. Or the ones who’d had their ovaries over-stimulated and ended up with litters of five or six or, once, nine little babies. It was hailed as a medical miracle in the press, but it had happened in Queens and Sarah had known some of the nurses in the neonatal unit. None of the babies born weighed over two pounds and five of them died in the first month from complications. The Omega had such difficulty sustaining the pregnancy at all that he’d required an emergency hysterectomy. In all practical terms, his life was over. He was eighteen years old.</p>
<p>No one cared what Steve did while the Pierces were gone, so he soaked in a bath after his solitary dinner. He let the water swirl around his shoulders as he slumped deeper into heated bliss. He’d managed to find scented Epsom salts and it definitely helped ease some of the minor pains he’d been experiencing the last few days in his hips and lower back.</p>
<p>He lay his head back against a folded towel hanging over the edge of the tub and breathed in the steam. He let his thoughts drift. Idly, he ran a hand over his chest, his breasts, his nipples. What would they look like when they plumped up with milk? For that matter, what would it be like to nurse? Would it be like when Bucky put his mouth there? Put his mouth there and started to lick and suck and nibble at him? While his hands stroked Steve’s sides and then his fingers slipped between his legs?</p>
<p>In the bath, Steve let his hand slip between his legs, repeating the memory of Bucky’s touch. He looked down at himself, the view slightly distorted from the bathwater and steam. His cocklet strained upright, demanding, eager. The tip was so sensitive sometimes and it was now, too. He gentled his touch, played with the little hole, stroked along the shaft. His other hand remained on his breasts. His nipples puckered from the attention and it felt amazingly good to play with them that way, to twist until he gasped out loud. He rubbed his thighs together. Pulled at his nipples. Ran a hand down his body again to slip between the folds of skin to his opening.</p>
<p>Omega slick was thicker than water, so the saying went. Steve’s legs pressed hard against the sides of the tub as he continued stroking his cocklet with one hand while toying with his opening with the other. He teased himself, pushing a finger in, then withdrawing it, like Bucky had. Bucky with his comforting smell. Bucky with his broad shoulders and beautiful face. Bucky hovering above him, his arms around him, protecting him while Steve urged him, encouraged him, begged him to please-please-please just fuck him, please fuck him. Steve had three fingers inside himself and a hand tugging at his cocklet when he came, writhing in the tub, gasping into the steam, and then slumping into the warm water feeling both sated and sad. And still a little achy.</p>
<p>He missed Bucky.</p>
<p>This probably wasn’t a good thing, him missing Bucky. Bucky was going to leave in a few months, or whenever this project was over. He had a mission to complete and Steve was not part of that mission. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t more than a distraction, he told himself. At most, he was another source of information. Anyone in his position would be the same. Steve wasn’t anything special.</p>
<p>But that was good, wasn’t it? If he were something special to Bucky, wouldn’t that cause Bucky to be distracted? To be compromised? To maybe interfere with Pierce in a way that Pierce wouldn’t need to tolerate? Weren’t their respective missions more important than anything? Did the problems of two little people really amount to more than a hill of beans in this crazy world? Well, they didn’t for Rick and Ilsa, so they wouldn’t for Bucky and Steve. The mission had to come first. If Steve refused to help Bucky, sure that might keep Steve safe. It wouldn’t do shit for Bucky. It wouldn’t hurt him, necessarily, but it wouldn’t help him, either.</p>
<p>Bucky deserved to be helped.</p>
<p>Just for his own sake, he deserved it. He could have been cruel during Steve’s heat, but he wasn’t. He could have taken just what he wanted and ignored Steve’s pleasure entirely. It’s not like it’s required for an Omega to have an orgasm in order to get pregnant, but Bucky made sure Steve was enjoying himself. Even on that second day, the day Steve couldn’t remember except in pieces, even on that day, Steve was certain he’d come, that Bucky had made him come, encouraged it. Forced it, maybe. He still couldn’t remember that day with any clarity.</p>
<p>Rumlow hadn’t done any of that. Pierce had never done that. It wasn’t until he’d had sex with Bucky that he’d realized how good sex could be. With Rumlow, with Pierce, Steve felt off-balance, like it didn’t matter if it were Steve there or not. It never felt personal. No, Bucky was nothing like Pierce or Rumlow. He was so much better.</p>
<p>He deserved better, too. He deserved Steve’s help, whatever help Steve could provide. He would do it. Maybe his information would turn out to be worth nothing, but the effort of helping Bucky? It would be all Steve could do. It had to be worth something.</p>
<p>What if Steve could help end the war? What if his information, or some small part of his information, was the key piece to ending the FSA and reuniting the country? He indulged that line of thinking, imagining how grateful Bucky might be, until the water turned colder than comfortable.</p>
<p>He smiled to himself as he pulled the stopper on the tub and stood up while the water drained out. He stretched, the ache in the small of his back mostly gone. He decided to take some pain reliever before bed. That would help. He reached for his towel and began to dry off, starting with his hair and moving down. He stumbled a little getting out of the tub but chalked it up to his own mental distraction. He combed his hair in the mirror, noticing with distaste how it fell wetly down his back. He’d never had it this long. He’d have to start tying it back or wearing it in braids. Angie would show him how.</p>
<p>He'd already selected his nightie, so he put those on and then hung his towel up on the rack to dry. That was odd, he thought. There was a smear of something on the towel. A reddish smear? Did he - ? What was that?</p>
<p>Carefully, Steve wiped a hand between his legs. He felt slick, but that could just be because he didn’t dry himself thoroughly everywhere, maybe. He looked at his fingers. He saw blood.</p>
<p>Alarmed, he reached for the toilet paper, tore off a bunch of it, made sure it was clean, and then swiped again. More blood. Some of the blood seemed thicker in places, like it wasn’t just blood, but…</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” he said, a numbing cold sweeping down his body. “Oh, please, no. Don’t do this!”</p>
<p>With one hand on his abdomen, he hurried into the hallway. He didn’t know where to go, where his protection detail might be. They had escorted him to lunch after his solarium time and they were expected to pick him up again after breakfast. Otherwise, no one paid attention to what he did, but how was he supposed to find them?</p>
<p>In his short nightie, still holding the wad of bloody toilet paper, Steve rushed down the hall toward the stairs. Wasn’t there always someone there?</p>
<p>No one was there.</p>
<p>He looked in the main hall. Again, he saw no one. No guards standing in front of any doors, no one at the main staircase. Was he completely alone? Did no one really care what he was doing?</p>
<p>The small of his back started aching again. He felt a wetness grow between his thighs that did not feel like slick. “Oh, please, please,” he muttered. “Where is anyone?” He heard voices from the service stairs. He remembered that the service stairs led down to the administrative offices next to the Oval Office, where the president’s personal assistants worked. But Steve was never supposed to leave the second floor by himself. He leaned over the barricade and looked down. He heard laughter.</p>
<p>“Fuck it. This is an emergency,” Steve said, and hurried down the stairs. At the bottom, he turned and stepped into the administrative office. He saw three desks and four people standing around, drinks in their hands, laughing until they saw Steve standing there. Their eyes popped open and they straightened up.</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” Steve said, “but I need help, please.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Consequences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There are unpleasant consequences for what happened to Steve.</p>
<p>This is the most potentially difficult chapter so far, so please proceed at your own comfort level.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky met Marine One on the south lawn. He stood at attention, in his military uniform, as Pierce and then Natasha stepped off the helicopter. The Omega, Angie, followed directly behind, then Coulson and Rumlow stepped onto the landing pad. Bucky saluted as Pierce approached him. The president stared at him, his expression unreadable, then returned the salute and walked past. Natasha’s face was a cold mask. They were both in black. Even Angie had been covered over in a hooded black cloak. She did not look up but followed two paces behind the First Lady.</p>
<p>Coulson barely nodded as he passed, but Rumlow stopped in front of Bucky. The chopper was preparing to take off again, and the rotors were still spinning. Rumlow leaned closer and shouted over the persistent <em>thuck-thuck-thuck</em> of the blades, “Were you there?”</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head. “I was home. Coulson called me yesterday.”</p>
<p>He shook his head, grimacing with extreme displeasure. “Hell of a thing,” Rumlow said. “Fucked everything up. Goddamned Omega.”</p>
<p>“Hey! It’s not hi-her fault. It just happens.” That’s what Bucky had been telling himself ever since Coulson’s phone call. Sometimes, these things just happened. He’d wanted to go directly to the White House, to be at Steve’s side, but they’d taken Steve to the emergency room and kept him for observation, protected by hospital security protocols. He was due to be returned any minute now at Pierce’s insistence. Somehow, the Japanese had found out what happened, which forced the Pierces to cut short their state visit. Had they ignored the situation at home and continued with negotiations, it would have been seen as a cultural insult. Omegas held a place of singular honor in Japanese society. If Pierce wanted to sign a new trade deal with them, he’d have to at least pretend to honor those in his own household.</p>
<p>“Silver lining, though,” Rumlow said with a grin. “We’ll probably get to fuck the next one, too.”</p>
<p>“Next one? You don’t think they’ll keep Stevie?” They had to keep Steve. He couldn’t lose him. How would he keep tabs on him if he were sent away? How would he protect him? What if he were ‘sent upstate’?</p>
<p>Rumlow shrugged. “They might. I mean, she is a hot piece of ass. But Pierce doesn’t tend to hold onto things that fail him. So let’s just hope you didn’t get too attached to that pussy.” He clapped Bucky on the upper arm. “Come on, let’s go catch up. We got invited to sit in. We shouldn’t be late.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. Together they walked back into the house to the private floor. Guards in standard black federal uniforms ushered them to the family lounge, a private room mainly used for gathering of close allies and friends, and then stood inside the closed doors. A servant handed Natasha and Pierce tumblers of scotch. The Pierces then sat next to each other, so Bucky and Rumlow sat facing them on the matching couch. In the corner, looking a bit out of place, stood Dr. William Forsythe, the White House official O-OB/GYN, a middle-aged Alpha with thinning dark hair and a strangely elongated face. In the center of the room, between the two couches, clearly visible to everyone, stood an adjustable pillory made of black powdered-coated metal. Its presence made Bucky uneasy.</p>
<p>They sat quietly for what felt like ages until the president’s valet came in, caught Pierce’s eye, and nodded. Pierce gave a little nod in return. The valet held open one of the double doors as Angie and then Steve walked through. Angie looked terrified. At some point, she’d removed her outer cloak and shoes. Her traditional garments were simple and black. Steve, however, was dressed in light green clothing he’d obviously gotten from the hospital: soft cotton pants and a loose shirt. He looked worn out. Gone was the healthy glow, the ready smile, the sassy confidence of the Omega he’d known. This Steve was suffering.</p>
<p>Well, of course, he was. He’d gone through a terrible experience completely alone. Bucky felt relief to finally see him and strangely thankful to the Pierces, even though the only reason he was here now was because, as Angie had put it, ‘The President and the First Lady believe you and Commander Rumlow have every right to witness this as the two of you were intimately involved with the procedure.’ That’s how she had put it: the procedure. Three mornings of caring for Steve while he burned with his heat? A procedure. Some of the best sex he’d had since that summer before he started in the army? A procedure. No, he’d wanted to reply, a procedure is getting a suspicious mole removed. It isn’t holding the most precious person in the world in your arms while you pleasured them until they begged you to stop then smiled so sweetly at you that you found you just had to pleasure them again.</p>
<p>Angie nudged Steve forward, then knelt on the carpet at Natasha’s feet. Steve kept his head down as he stood next to the pillory, facing the Pierces.</p>
<p>Natasha got to her feet. “What is this? What do you wear?” She gestured with her tumbler of scotch. “In this house, Omegas wear traditional clothing yet here you are in this costume.”</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Angie piped up anxiously. “She just got here and we were told no delays-“</p>
<p>Natasha snapped her fingers in Angie’s direction. “You be quiet. Her clothing is not your responsibility. She knows better. Why are you still dressed this way?” She didn’t so much as glance away from Steve.</p>
<p>Steve and Angie shared a startled look. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Steve said, “I misunderstood. It’s my fault. Would you like me to-“</p>
<p>“Yes. Remove these clothes. Now!”</p>
<p>Bucky saw Steve swallow hard and exchange a startled look with Angie. Then he firmed his jaw and pulled the pale green cotton shirt over his head, revealing his bare breasts. A moment later, he’d dropped the soft pants and kicked them to one side. He straightened up, facing Natasha, but keeping his gaze respectfully focused downward, his hands in fists by his sides. He was completely nude. His pale skin shone in the lamplight. His pert ass, his slender shoulders, Bucky could even see the soft pooch of his cocklet nestled at the apex of his thighs reflected in the glass of a nearby curio cabinet.</p>
<p>Beside him, Rumlow shifted in place. Bucky glanced over at the other Alpha and spied a twitching lump in his pants.</p>
<p>“Tell me,” Natasha growled, using every bit of intimidation she could muster – which was a lot, “you stupid little bitch. What did you do wrong, hm? What mistake did you make?”</p>
<p>Steve flinched as Natasha shouted at him. His voice a whisper, he responded, “N-Nothing, ma’am. I’m so sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what happened-“</p>
<p>The impact of Natasha’s open palm on Steve’s cheek echoed through the room. Bucky clenched his jaw and dug his fingers into his palms. At his side, Rumlow crossed one leg over the other. Bucky glanced at him in dismayed concern. The other Alpha practically gleamed with suppressed excitement. Across from them, Pierce looked almost bored by the whole thing. He just examined the amber liquid in his glass.</p>
<p>“Don’t speak to me!” Natasha turned in a little circle. “How difficult is it to carry one infant to term, hm? Millions of Betas and Omegas do it every day. Why can’t you?”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head helplessly. Tears began streaming down his cheeks. He crossed his arms, gripping his elbows tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. His knees trembled.</p>
<p>“Get on with it,” Pierce said, taking a drink. “You’re just working yourself up. Punish her and you’ll feel better.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” Natasha nodded. “You, there.” She snapped her fingers at the federal officers standing guard in the room. “Do the thing. Put her in place.”</p>
<p>Immediately, the two federal officers strode forward. Steve gasped as the burlier one of them slung an arm around his waist and lifted him, swinging him around to one side so that he faced Rumlow and Bucky. Rumlow looked at Steve with a smile. Bucky tried his best to radiate support, empathy, and a strong desire to protect. Steve glanced at both of them, then looked down. Bucky couldn’t figure out what Steve might possibly be thinking.</p>
<p>The other officer went to the pillory and started making some adjustments to the crossbar along the top. It took him maybe thirty seconds to loosen the adjusting screws to lower the crossbar and then swing it open like a gate.</p>
<p>Bucky swallowed hard. He kept telling himself he couldn’t interfere. He needed to interfere. He wished he were anywhere else. He told himself to be glad he was witnessing this. He needed to know what was going to happen to Steve. He needed to know so that Steve wouldn’t have to tell him later. He felt sick. How could people do this? It wasn’t an unusual punishment. It was the preferred punishment for Omegas, in fact, because it would cause immense pain without disfigurement. It was humiliating, humbling, and required no special skills or training by the one doling out the punishment. But it was also…horrible to witness, worse to bear.</p>
<p>The burly officer holding Steve swung him into a bridal carry, then tipped his head down and his feet up. Steve started to panic, grabbing hold of the agent’s arms and shoulders, but the officer just laid Steve on his back, his butt up against the base of the pillory, his feet in the air at a 90-degree angle. The other officer positioned Steve’s ankles into two of the circular openings, then immediately swung the gate shut. He twisted the tension screws, imprisoning Steve’s feet. The agents stepped aside so that Natasha could inspect their work.</p>
<p>“Oh, God, please, ma’am,” Steve cried out, “please don’t do this. I’m sorry. I can do better. It wasn’t my fault. Please don’t do this!” He reared up, then reached up to Natasha’s hands. She lifted them out of reach.</p>
<p>Rumlow sat upright, both feet on the ground, hands on his knees loose and easy. Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw him lick his lips.</p>
<p>Natasha stepped away from the pillory. “Hold her down, Angie.” Bucky watched Natasha walk over to an intricately carved cherry wood cabinet. She opened it to reveal a large selection of crops, whips, floggers and other impact items. Some of them looked decidedly like antiques. She selected a shiny leather strop about twenty inches long and tapped it gently on her palm.</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.” Angie’s voice was soft, but the room was so quiet everyone could hear her clearly. She knelt down by Steve’s head. “Give me your hands, Stevie,” she whispered. “Come on. It’ll be over soon.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t,” Steve said, reaching to Angie. “Ma’am, sir, Mr. President, please don’t do this. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened. I swear!”</p>
<p>“Quiet, now,” Pierce said mildly. He finished off his drink, then held it out to his valet. The valet took the tumbler and refilled it with fresh ice and more whiskey.</p>
<p>Bucky wanted to scream at them. He wanted to jump up and free Steve and take him away, protect him, somehow. Somewhere. But there wasn’t anywhere safe. There wasn’t anything he could do. Steve had to get through this on his own just like Bucky did. Maybe after, Bucky could do something. Maybe after, Bucky could pull some strings, get Steve to safety. His parents’ place in Indiana, maybe.</p>
<p>Steve’s feet twisted in their restraints, but he couldn’t move them much. Tears spilled out the corners of his eyes. He stared up into Angie’s face. She leaned her weight on his hands, keeping him in place. “Shh, Stevie,” she whispered. “It won’t take long.”</p>
<p>“Stop that,” Natasha said, and tapped the sole of one foot with the leather strop. “You injure yourself if you continue. When we met, I tell you preferred method of punishment. Bastinado. It will not cause permanent damage, but you will remember this, yes? Six, I think. Three on each foot.”</p>
<p>Angie was whispering to Steve again, but Bucky couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear anything but a roaring in his ears. He couldn’t see anything but Natasha raising the thin flat strop just above her head and then swinging it down onto the sole of Steve’s upturned left foot. She did it again, and again, and then all he could hear were Steve’s howls of pain.</p>
<p>Steve writhed on the floor in clear agony, managing to slip loose from Angie’s grip, but she swiftly brought him back under control. He kept begging, pleading with Natasha to stop. Instead, she calmly told him that if Angie couldn’t keep him in place, then Angie would be the next under her lash.</p>
<p>Steve stared at Natasha for a long moment before getting himself under control. He remained in place for the final set, focused on the ceiling, his jaw clenched, barely even whimpering while Natasha beat the sole of his right foot three times as well.</p>
<p>Natasha signaled to Angie and the officers that it was finished. The officers unhurriedly undid the restraints. As soon as his feet were released, Steve curled up on the floor. Angie hovered over him and urged him to try to stand. He barely managed it while hunching over, wincing. He leaned heavily on Angie, balancing unsteadily on the sides of his feet.</p>
<p>Bucky’s heart cried out again for him to go to Steve’s side, to gather him in his arms, to take him away. Instead, he watched as Angie helped Steve slowly leave the room. When the door shut behind them, with the agents now on the other side of it, Natasha sat back down on the sofa and tossed back half of her whiskey. Bucky realized he’d been so tense his back barely touched the cushion behind him. He purposely leaned back. He suspected it would be better for him to appear unaffected. Rumlow must have had the same idea, because he’d crossed his leg over his knee again, although this also served to hide his sizeable erection.</p>
<p>Pierce cleared his throat. Throughout the entire event, his bland expression hadn’t so much as flickered. “So, Dr. Forsythe. Explain what happened to my Omega.”</p>
<p>“Uh, you mean just now?” Forsythe wiped a hand across his forehead, eyes wide. He took several steps closer to the furniture grouping.</p>
<p>“No one needs an explanation of what just happened. I meant to my Omega. Medically. You’re a doctor, aren’t you? A specialist?”</p>
<p>“Oh. Of course. Certainly.” The doctor cleared his throat. “Two nights ago, Stevie experienced an idiopathic cessation of gestation. A miscarriage. She had no warning symptoms. The whole thing probably took three hours. There were no complications. She passed the entire contents of the womb.” He shrugged. “There should be no further complications to her fertility or ability to carry successfully in the future. I strongly suggest letting her rest for the next two weeks at least before resuming sexual relations. I know your main concern is to have a baby, but you want her to be in the best frame of mind possible.” He smiled, but it died quick. He didn’t seem to know what to do next. Bucky wasn’t sure how to help him, so he let him continue to flounder. “Uh, so,” Dr. Forsythe said, “that’s what happened. Can I answer any other questions?”</p>
<p>Pierce sighed. “I don’t have any. What about you, Natashenskaya?”</p>
<p>The First Lady rested her drink in her lap. She looked at the room, blinking as if seeing it for the first time. “What can we do? We try again.”</p>
<p>Pierce’s face twisted. “But she couldn’t do it. Don’t you want a better one?”</p>
<p>“Doctor say she can still do it. And she check your boxes. Blonde. Blue eyes. Small body. No family. White all the way back.” Natasha shrugged. “The next one still too young.”</p>
<p>“One might become available. We don’t know,” Pierce pointed out. “Erica called me. Reminded me of her offer to carry the baby.”</p>
<p>“I won’t risk it. Her children are brats.”</p>
<p>Pierce laughed. “They are not.”</p>
<p>“Perfect brats,” Natasha muttered. Louder, she added, “Last month, one of them peed in my shoes. My shoes were in my closet. She had to pass by three toilets before she got there. Little monster.”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s that husband of hers, the Jew.”</p>
<p>“Yes? What did you tell her, anyway?”</p>
<p>“I told her to save that precious figure for her husband.”</p>
<p>The room fell into an awkward silence as no one seemed to know what to say next. Besides the casual racism and questions about the exact nature of Pierce’s relationship with his Beta daughter, Bucky thought it was bizarre to hear Pierce and Natasha speaking together like any other married couple. It was almost like nothing had happened, or at least, nothing important.</p>
<p>“Fine, fine,” Pierce said at last, taking his wife’s hand. “We’ll give it another try.”</p>
<p>Bucky felt a measure of relief. Steve wasn’t going to be sent away. Beside him, Rumlow grunted.</p>
<p>Natasha smiled and playfully kissed the back of Pierce’s hand. “We do the same as before, no?” She kept her focus on him.</p>
<p>“Yeah, sure,” Pierce agreed. He finished off his whiskey. “If that’s what you want.”</p>
<p>Natasha leaned forward across the couch cushions. Bucky realized with a start that she was deliberately positioning herself so that her clothing would gape in the front, so that Pierce could look down her dress. Pierce was definitely looking down her dress. “And you will cancel any trips, no?”</p>
<p>“I can’t promise that,” Pierce said, now looking at her face. “I’m the President of the FSA. I can’t just ignore my responsibilities.”</p>
<p>“You left,” Natasha said. She stabbed a manicured fingernail into the cushion. “That is why she lost the baby. You left her. You need to stay with her. Doctor. Tell him I am right.”</p>
<p>The doctor took a step back. “Uh, oh, I don’t, uh-“</p>
<p>“It is old Russian saying,” she insisted. “Strong Alpha, Strong Bond, Strong Baby. I want strong baby. I have strong Alpha. I need strong bond!” She ended her speech by sitting upright.</p>
<p>“That’s just an old wives’ tale,” Pierce said. He held out his tumbler for another refill. The valet moved swiftly to comply. “That has nothing to do with it. Tell her, Forsythe.”</p>
<p>“Well, actually,” Dr. Forsythe stammered, “there may be some truth to the idea that the continued presence of an Alpha helps keep a bonded Omega calm, and that stress can cause miscarriage, but it’s also true that about 60% of Omegas under the age of twenty who become pregnant miscarry in the first trimester. Stevie’s eighteen. This is her first pregnancy. While this was an unpleasant outcome, it certainly wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.”</p>
<p>Natasha narrowed her eyes at Forsythe. “May be some truth?”</p>
<p>“Well, yes,” Forsythe said, seemingly more at ease now. “There have been some preliminary studies to suggest that pregnant Omegas do better when their Alphas are physically near them. They self-report as being more calm, happier, better rested if they spend time with their Alphas every day. Other studies have shown no correlation. It may be a function of age. They’d have to do a large sample controlled study to really figure it out, but no one wants to risk that many miscarriages or premature births if they’re wrong.”</p>
<p>“Then it is settled.” Natasha nodded her head firmly. “Stevie spend two weeks in bed. We induce heat. She get pregnant again. She spend all her time with husband, then boom. I get baby.” She smiled at no one. “It will be easy.”</p>
<p>Bucky swallowed hard. Pierce accepted his refill while Natasha stood up to speak with the doctor. Rumlow turned toward him, leaned over with a grin and muttered, “Sounds like we’re back on for heat duty, fuck partner.”</p>
<p>“Don’t ever call me that,” Bucky shot back. Rumlow just laughed.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>For the next two weeks, Steve was discouraged from leaving his bed for any reason beyond necessary bodily functions and a bath every other day. Angie had been instructed to care for him from breakfast to dinner. She brought him three historical romances about Vikings and six mysteries centered around horseracing. He finished them the first week, so she brought him a stack of Harlequin novels from the 60s and 70s she’d found in a storage closet. He tried to be gracious, but it was difficult. The Harlequins all seemed to have one of two plots: business-Beta has no time for romance, finds a hard-driving, handsome Alpha and they fall in love, bonding with an Omega that’s been cheering on one of them since the book started; or, lonely Omega making a poor living as a nurse, teacher or childcare worker, finds an Alpha-Beta pair that needs the Omega to complete their family. The spiciest any of them got was a tender kiss while the Omega calmly announced they were going into heat.</p>
<p>At least his frustration with his reading material took his mind off his healing feet. That first night, Angie had helped him sit on the edge of the tub and clean his injuries carefully with antiseptic soap. She loosely wrapped his feet in gauze, intending to help him walk, but his wounds were beginning to swell so he crawled carefully into his room instead and climbed into bed. Angie painted the soles of his feet with an antibacterial ointment that contained a numbing compound. She rewrapped his feet, propped them up on a pillow, gave him some pain relievers, covered him in a blanket and let him find sleep.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Natasha hadn’t completely broken the skin, though she had definitely left welts. Steve had spectacular bruising that bloomed and spread as the first week passed. He experienced bouts of itching, too, that drove him crazy. He couldn’t scratch, so he ended up tapping his feet in an effort to give his nerves something else to focus on, a tactic which worked only most of the time. By the second week, he started taking test walks up and down the service hall to the stairs and back. Dr. Forsythe visited on day 10.</p>
<p>The doctor failed to bring a nurse with him, so there was no one else in the room when he examined Steve. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “Just hitch your butt to the edge of the bed and hold your thighs back. That’s it. Spread yourself for me.”</p>
<p>Steve’s face burned with humiliation, but he did as Forsythe instructed. The air was cold on his genitals, but when he felt Forsythe’s warm breath between his legs, he found he wanted to cry.</p>
<p>“Very good,” Forsythe said. “Everything looks good so far. I’m just going to…” He stood abruptly, looming over Steve, fully clothed and smiling while Steve lay with his cotton pajama top bunched up under his arms. Forsythe had paused long enough that Steve glanced up at him to see what had distracted him. Their eyes met. Steve was acutely aware that he was basically presenting for the doctor. He didn’t want to present. He let his grip slip on his thighs, allowing his legs to begin to close, but Forsythe laid three fingers on the tender inner skin of his left thigh. “No, no,” he said. “Leave them open.”</p>
<p>Steve swallowed hard. He couldn’t look away now. He watched as Forsythe drew his gaze from Steve’s face down his body and lingered just below his hips. He felt his cocklet twitch. He told himself it was just the position he was in, not any real interest in Forsythe or copulation.</p>
<p>The doctor snagged a sterile drape from his medical bag, snapped it open and then laid it across Steve’s knees. He’d brought a collapsible stool with him. Steve could hear him drag it closer to the bed. Forsythe sat down and Steve couldn’t see him anymore. His fingers slipped a little, so he repositioned them, still tucked between his calves and his thighs.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you grab your shins, hm?” Forsythe said.</p>
<p>Steve felt a tap-tap on his shin. He grabbed his knees. It made him stretch further, which made the drape slide to one side.</p>
<p>“Hm,” Forsythe said again. “The angle is good, but this sheet just isn’t serving any purpose and it’s getting in my way.” He pulled it off Steve and let it fall to the floor. “We’ll just get on with it, shall we? It’s not like we don’t know what we’re doing.”</p>
<p>Steve unwillingly glanced at Forsythe, whose head appeared right between Steve’s thighs. Forsythe met his gaze full-on and smiled.</p>
<p>“I’m just going to do a complete examination,” he said. “Make sure everything’s in good shape, then I’ll give you a shot and you’ll be good to go for the president. How’s that sound, hm?”</p>
<p>“F-Fine,” Steve said. He began to pray the doctor would finish quick and leave. He heard Forsythe humming as he got out a rubber glove. Steve refocused on the ceiling. Forsythe cursed, tossed the glove somewhere, and then got out another one.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear,” Forsythe said. “This is the last one – oh! Damn it.” He sighed ostentatiously. “The last two gloves just broke on me. That’s what you get when you try to save a nickel on gloves, Billy!” A chuckle and another loud sigh. “I’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way, I guess.” Steve heard Forsythe squeeze lube onto his fingers. “Here we go.”</p>
<p>Two lubed fingers slid along Steve’s cocklet, turning it left and then right. Forsythe picked up the cocklet, then, pulled at the tip and leaned in close. “Looks healthy,” he murmured. “Nice pink color.”</p>
<p>Steve’s face heated with embarrassment. He felt Forsythe lift his cocklet and stroke the shaft a few times with his fingers. He tried to think of baseball, the war, the recipe for Toll House Cookies. He’d gotten as far as ‘3/4 cup of light brown sugar’ when the doctor took a firm grip on the cocklet with one hand and stroked two fingers along the split of flesh to his vagina. Then he pressed those fingers and wriggled them into the opening. The smell of sugar filled the air as Forsythe hummed.</p>
<p>“Slick production seems a little slow. I’ll give you something to boost that. It’s got a good consistency, though.”</p>
<p>The doctor who examined him during his intake at the federal school had treated him this way, Steve remembered, as if he were a champion poodle at a dog show. He wanted to get angry about it. He wanted to shout at the doctor, force him to see Steve as a real person who deserved to be treated just like any Beta or Alpha got treated – with respect and dignity. He wanted to, but something inside him seemed to detach from reality a little. What has happening between his legs was having less and less to do with him as the exam continued.</p>
<p>Forsythe inserted a metal speculum and shone a hot light into Steve’s body. The doctor complained about the lighting in Steve’s room, but a handheld flashlight seemed to be doing its job. Forsythe adjusted the speculum, opening Steve’s hole wider and wider. Steve was gasping with the effort of remaining still, terrified the speculum would pinch his tenderest flesh somehow, increasingly unconvinced that such a thing was extremely unlikely. His sweaty palms threatened to slip on his shins. He was just about to break when Forsythe made a pleased sound and closed the speculum, withdrawing it with a flourish.</p>
<p>“There we go,” he said. “Everything looks pink and healthy. I just have to do a rectal.” Forsythe stood up and wiped off his hands. Steve closed his eyes. He heard a rustle of fabric and then Forsythe lubed his fingers one more time. Without warning, he plunged a finger into Steve’s ass, then a second, and then pressed down on his abdomen with the palm of his free hand. He leaned close to Steve while doing this. His trousers bunched up against the curve of Steve’s ass. Forsythe shimmied a little, his eyes unfocused, and then Steve felt it. Forsythe’s cock, stiff and hot and hard nudged against the slick flesh of Steve’s vagina, and pushed into his body just as the fingers withdrew from his rectum.</p>
<p>Forsythe groaned. His eyes rolled up and he shuddered. “So sweet,” he moaned. He looked down at Steve, who was horrified – appalled – confused – he was being raped!? Forsythe smiled and began to pump his cock into and then out of Steve’s body. He leaned over and braced himself on the mattress, his hand next to Steve’s head. “You’re such a sweet Omega,” he said in a breathy voice. “I couldn’t resist you. You got so slick. You must have wanted it. You must have wanted this so bad. You’ve been seducing me this whole time.”</p>
<p>“What?” Steve let go of his shins. “No! Get away from me.” He tried to kick at the doctor’s chest, but Forsythe was leaning too far forward for Steve to get a good angle. Instead, he moaned louder. He pulled Steve’s legs around his waist.</p>
<p>“I knew you wanted it, you little whore,” Forsythe said, thrusting even harder. “Lying there, presenting for me. I know what happens here. I know you get fucked every night that Pierce can get it up. I know you get serviced by two Alpha studs every day because Pierce can’t keep it up for you. But I can. I can! I can fuck! You! All! Day! Ahhh!” He thrust madly and then stopped, his knot popping just inside Steve’s body, catching on the rim.</p>
<p>“No, no,” Steve kept saying. “Don’t – don’t!” But when Forsythe knotted him, and began to ejaculate, Steve could only lay there, defeated and cursing his Omega instincts. Forsythe bent his head and pushed up at Steve’s pajama top. He mouthed Steve’s breast, biting at his nipple. Steve reached up and grabbed the doctor’s shoulders, but whether he was trying to push him away or bring him in closer, he refused to examine too closely. Forsythe wasn’t the most dominant Alpha, but he was the only Alpha around. Steve was an Omega being knotted and pheromones were a bitch.</p>
<p>Steve felt sick, dizzy. He dropped his hands to his sides and let his legs fall open. Forsythe only knotted him for a few minutes. When his knot deflated enough, he pulled out and wiped off, leaving Steve with semen dripping down to his asshole and saliva across his chest.</p>
<p>He curled over onto his side while Forsythe redressed and cleaned up his supplies. The doctor rubbed an alcohol swab across Steve’s exposed buttock and injected him with the drug cocktail meant to induce his heat. When he was done, Forsythe patted Steve’s ass. “You’re a good girl, Stevie,” Forsythe said. “You’ll make a good m’Omega, as long as you don’t lose this one, too.”</p>
<p>Steve wept silently when Forsythe closed the bedroom door and walked away.</p>
<p>One week later, Steve’s heat had hit hard and he was back on his knees in the president’s bedroom getting railed by the First Lady when Bucky walked in.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Let's Try This Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve's heat goes a little differently the second time around.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rut could be exhausting, Bucky thought, resting his head gently against Steve’s back, but the space right between Steve’s shoulder blades was so soft, smooth and seductive. The skin there felt good on his tongue, and he enjoyed the way Steve shivered when he brushed the tips of his eyelashes across it. His knot was comfortable, snug inside Steve’s body, wet and hot and pulsing with every beat of Steve’s heart. They were in perfect sync. Bucky didn’t want it to end.</p>
<p>Later, Bucky fed Steve some pastry and apple slices from the breakfast cart. He accidentally-on-flirtatious-purpose dripped maple syrup across Steve’s nipples, then cleaned him off with his tongue. They laughed softly, exchanged long glances, made love over and over again.</p>
<p>That first day, Rumlow didn’t turn up until well after two, fully dressed in his usual black and grey suit. Coulson had cleared Bucky’s schedule for all three days of Steve’s heat, so it wasn’t like not getting out at noon was inconveniencing him. Still, Rumlow’s tardiness was odd enough that Bucky, tightening the belt on a white terrycloth robe decorated with the presidential seal on the back, asked what caused the delay.</p>
<p>“That fucking bitch of a wife of Pierce’s,” Rumlow replied angrily. He cast a quick look at Steve who was feigning sleep in the bed. “She put me in charge of security for the Saudi prince’s visit.”</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t hide his surprise. “That’s huge. There’s a dinner, the concert, the press conference and the photo op, plus isn’t the prince supposed to stay in the Lincoln bedroom?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Rumlow growled. “But it means I have to focus on that and can’t do this which is what’s pissing me off.” He leaned closer to Bucky. “I saved up my spunk for this one,” he said, jerking a thumb in Steve’s direction. “Now I only have time for one knot.”</p>
<p>It wouldn’t cost Bucky to be nice, so he said in a friendly, teasing tone, “There’s still a couple hours until Pierce gets back. Surely you can knot more than once…?”</p>
<p>Rumlow smirked. “Of course, I can, but that bitch-wife is expecting me back. She was going to send an intern to tell you, but I intercepted her. I’ve got twenty minutes left on our thirty-minute break.”</p>
<p>“Sure…”</p>
<p>“You don’t mind, do you?” He gestured toward Steve, still motionless on the bed.</p>
<p>“Mind what? No, go ahead,” Bucky said, still meaning to keep on Rumlow’s good side. The longer he could maintain pleasant relations with the other project candidate, the more advantageous it would probably prove to be.</p>
<p>Rumlow grinned wolfishly. “Excellent. This will really help,” he said, turning toward the bed. Without warning, he yanked the blankets off Steve, then grabbed the startled Omega’s legs and pulled his hips toward the edge of the bed. With one hand, Rumlow undid his pants and released his stiffening cock.</p>
<p>Bucky took a step backward. “Whoa! Did you, uh, want some privacy?”</p>
<p>“Nah, it’s good.” Rumlow jerked his hand over his cock a few times, then jammed it inside Steve’s body with a groan of relief.</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes were huge and his mouth opened in shock. Rumlow must have taken his expression for lust because he started muttering, “That’s it, you little bitch, take it, take it! You know you want it! Here’s Big Daddy Brock’s Cock fucking you hard just like you like it, like you need it.” Rumlow thrust hard over and over, his hips making a slapping sound as they struck Steve’s backside. Steve kept his hands by his head and he just looked up.</p>
<p>There was strong social conditioning for Bucky to leave. Alphas didn’t normally watch other Alphas fuck this close up unless they were of much lesser status. Walking away, ceding all control over the Omega, was the polite thing for equals to do. Lingering, standing close, suggested either a challenge or a subservience that was at odds with Bucky’s intended relationship with Rumlow. Even when it happened in porn, there was a lot of fighting and posturing between the Alphas both before and after the sex, especially since fighting for an Omega was the headiest aphrodisiac of all.</p>
<p>And yet, Bucky didn’t want to leave Steve alone, either. He kept watching Rumlow’s hands on Steve’s hips, his waist, the glimpses of his cock peeking out of Steve’s cunt, slick and shiny, and he wanted to… he wanted to… he wanted to pull out a knife and cut off that cock and then shove it down Rumlow’s throat. He wanted to gut the other Alpha like a fish. He wanted to shove his hand up underneath the ribcage and tear out Rumlow’s heart and then present it to Steve like an offering, beg Steve for forgiveness for ever letting Rumlow get that close.</p>
<p>He wanted to do violence.</p>
<p>He ended up in the bathroom running cold water over his wrists and telling his reflection to get it the fuck together.</p>
<p>Rumlow knotted with a groan. In the mirror, Bucky could see the muscles of Rumlow’s ass flex tight. He could so easily stab him in the back, reach around and slice his throat, watch his blood spray across the sheets – but no, Rumlow’s blood would land on Steve’s body, and Steve should always remain beautiful and perfect and clean. Or would he revel in Rumlow’s blood? Would the mattress soak up red, would it squish as they laughed and rolled across it, would it please Steve?</p>
<p>Bucky gripped the edge of the marble bathroom counter. Soon, Rumlow’s ass relaxed. Bucky saw him pull out, wipe himself off with a corner of the bedsheet, then step back and buckle up.</p>
<p>“I’m going now, Barnes,” Rumlow called out. “Thanks for letting me have a go.”</p>
<p>“No problem. So this is it? You’re stuck in meetings the next few days?” Bucky tried to lean casually against the bathroom doorjamb and cross his arms loosely.</p>
<p>“Until the Saudis get back on that plane, yeah,” Rumlow said. He opened the door to the hallway. “Fuck him a few more times for me, will you?” He held up a hand in farewell and left, shutting the door firmly behind him.</p>
<p>Bucky hurried to the door and locked it. Pierce wasn’t due back until closer to six. He’d have plenty of time to deal with Brock’s interruption. He turned back to the bed and stopped short, alarmed to see that Steve had curled up into a ball and was silently weeping.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Steve, I’m so sorry,” Bucky said. He rushed forward, stopped moving, then slowly climbed onto the mattress. He laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Did he hurt you? What’s wrong?” He hadn’t seen Brock do anything unusual. He’d just knotted Steve in a rather ordinary if unfeeling way. Hadn’t he?</p>
<p>“Leave it,” Steve muttered. “Doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it does,” Bucky said. “It matters because you matter. You’re upset. What’s wrong?” He stroked Steve’s arm, then brushed a hank of his yellow hair off his forehead.</p>
<p>Steve’s jaw worked like he was trying to literally spit out the words. He glanced up at Bucky, then looked back down. He shook his head.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Bucky said after a long moment. “Why don’t we get you up into the shower, hm? Maybe that’ll help. Up you go, now.” He pulled Steve into his arms and carried him into the bathroom. Once in the shower, he sat on the wide bench and held Steve close on his lap while the steam billowed around them. He hummed tunelessly, keeping Steve’s head tucked up under his chin, and willed him to start talking.</p>
<p>After several minutes, it worked.</p>
<p>“It’s just that…” Steve sighed. “It’s just that this fucking sucks, okay? I hate this I hate this I hate this so fucking much!” Steve clenched his fists and crossed his arms.</p>
<p>Bucky made sure he couldn’t slip off his lap. “Mm-hm,” he said. “Tell me more.” He lightly ran his hand over Steve’s shoulder blades.</p>
<p>“I just want a normal heat. This isn’t a normal heat! This is induced and they say you can’t tell the difference, but you can. You can totally tell the difference.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah! It’s like, um. I don’t know. Have you ever played a first-person-shooter game? Like in an arcade?”</p>
<p>Bucky hoped this analogy was going somewhere pleasant. “Sure, I have. A time or two.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Steve seemed to perk up a little as he explained, “So you know how you stand there, in the little booth? You’ve got the visor on and the gun in your hand and it’s like everything’s happening around you? You know you can turn left or right. You hit the pedal with your foot and you move forward, fast or slow or stop. Right?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” He wondered how this was going to relate to a heat.</p>
<p>“And you know how, if you’re out of quarters or tokens or whatever, and you just stand there, the game goes on around you? Like the trailer? But you can’t do anything but watch?”</p>
<p>“Yeah…?” He wondered if he might be starting to get it.</p>
<p>“It’s like that,” Steve said. “A regular heat is like playing the game, getting into the zone, just rampaging through the alien invaders, the robots, the bad guy spies – whatever you’re up against. You’re in control. You’re moving forward, doing all the things and it’s going great, but it’s all you. I mean, it’s not like you can stop, but it’s also not like you <em>want</em> to stop. You’re driving the car.” He slumped. “Maybe I should have used a car as an example.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Bucky assured him. “I’m getting it. A normal heat is your body in the zone. An induced heat is like just watching the sample player?”</p>
<p>Steve nodded eagerly. “Yes,” he said, pressing his face against Bucky’s chest. “It’s all the same motions but there’s no <em>feeling</em> behind it. No… <em>oomph</em>.”</p>
<p>He kissed the top of Steve’s head. “Okay…” He wasn’t sure that warranted Steve’s anger, but wasn’t willing to argue his feelings, either.</p>
<p>Steve’s chest expanded as he took a huge breath. “It means…” He rubbed his hands over his face.</p>
<p>It struck Bucky how beautiful Steve was right then. His hair was slicked back from the steam, dark and shiny. Droplets clung to his ridiculously long eyelashes, shimmered along his rosy cheeks, shone like diamonds on his cherry lips. He fit perfectly in Bucky’s arms, his body slender and pink in the steam shower, his nipples soft and his cocklet nestled comfortably in the warm apex of his thighs. Then Steve looked up at Bucky, his eyes huge and blue and gorgeous.</p>
<p>“It means,” Steve went on, “that I can’t avoid how it all feels. Like, when I’m playing the game, shooting all the bad guys or whatever, it all feels right and sensible. It’s how you play. If you don’t do it, you’re not playing right. And when you’re just standing there watching it all happen, you realize how violent that game is. You see how much damage you’re doing. You get distance.” He took another deep breath but kept looking up into Bucky’s eyes. “You can’t ignore how dehumanizing it can be to just be fucked by whoever wants you, whenever they want, however they want.”</p>
<p>Tears were clearly welling up again in Steve’s eyes. He bit his lower lip and tipped his forehead against Bucky’s collarbone. “Oh, honey,” Bucky said softly. He thought got it now. He thought he understood. “So, when you were in a natural heat,” he said, “you could lose yourself in it. You could tell yourself that you were a willing participant, that you were a partner to whoever was, uh, there. But because this isn’t natural, you can’t. You’re aware of what’s going on. Your body is still participating, but your heart, your mind, is just hanging back and watching. So when Rumlow came in and –“</p>
<p>Steve started nodding his head. “Yeah. He just started fucking me like it didn’t matter if I wanted him or not, and I was getting wet because it didn’t matter who was doing it. It doesn’t matter who’s fucking me anymore. Not him, not the First Lady, not Pierce, not the doctor. Honest to fucking God, the only one I-“</p>
<p>“Wait, wait, wait,” Bucky said, unable to not get clarification. He nudged Steve to sit up straighter so he could look him in the eye again. “What doctor? When?”</p>
<p>Steve looked a little confused, then his expression turned sour. “Oh. Yeah. Dr. Forsythe. He had to do an exam, he said, when he shot me up to induce my heat.” He rubbed his stomach. “He said… he said things about me. To me. Like what Rumlow says. Or Pierce. I mean, I’ve heard it before. It’s not new. Doesn’t mean I like hearing it.”</p>
<p>“What do they say? Do I say anything wrong?” Even as he asked the question, he knew it was bad form to make any of this about him. That didn’t mean he wanted to keep making things uncomfortable for Steve.</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. “Oh, no. You’re fine. You say nice things.” One corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up into a shy smile. “I like what you say. Even now. You… you don’t feel wrong to me. You never have.”</p>
<p>Bucky let out a long breath. “I really hope you’re not just saying that.”</p>
<p>He laughed a little. “Nope. Not just saying that. I don’t think I could say anything about the rest of it if it weren’t you here with me.”</p>
<p>Bucky gathered him closer into his embrace. “I’m glad.” He held him a long moment, then terrible curiosity got the better of him. “So, what do they say?”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head dismissively. “Just stupid sex shit. I guess it would be sexy from the right person, but from them, in retrospect? It’s kind of skeevy.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not.” He looked up again, frustration write large across his face. “I’m um, kind of feeling…you know.” He wriggled his backside.</p>
<p>Bucky, aiming to lighten the mood, smirked. “Baby, I got your feeling…”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>After drying off from the sex and the shower, Bucky pulled Steve onto his lap on the large wingback chair in the corner of the president’s bedroom. He’d bundled them both up in white cotton bathrobes and now they cuddled together. He’d called for one of the housekeepers to bring fresh sheets and change the bedding; he’d been promised it would happen within fifteen minutes.</p>
<p>“So, apparently, it’s just going to be you and me tomorrow and the day after,” Bucky said softly. “Unless that doesn’t work for you, of course. I’m sure Coulson could think of someone to take the afternoons, now that Rumlow had to bow out.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine,” Steve said. He stretched out his legs then let them fall against Bucky’s calves. He shifted into a more comfortable position on Bucky’s lap.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I can’t stay with you through the night, too.” Steve’s hair curled at the ends where it draped against the folded collar of the robe. He’d clearly worn it short before, but the Pierces would never consent to cutting an Omega’s hair. Even Angie’s hair hung well past her hips. She complained once about getting it caught in an elevator door.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about that. I mostly sleep. Well, I did before. I think they prefer it that way.”</p>
<p>They probably did. And that meant they probably weren’t fucking him while he slept but actually letting him sleep. Still, Bucky said, “I’m not sure you should be taking so much medication.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure anyone will answer me honestly if I ask about it.”</p>
<p>“Point,” Bucky said. “So… Mrs. Pierce said you’re going to be staying with the president while you’re pregnant. Were you aware?”</p>
<p>“Oh. God. That’s…fantastic. Just swell.”</p>
<p>Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but a knock on the door from the housekeeper interrupted him.</p>
<p>It took the older Omega maid all of six minutes to change the sheets on Pierce’s bed. She didn’t blink an eye to find Bucky and Steve curled up in a chair. She focused on her job and when she was done, the old sheets stuffed into a laundry cart, she asked softly if there was anything else they needed. Bucky sent her on her way, then stood Steve on his own feet.</p>
<p>“Come on, then,” he said, slyly grinning. “Let’s make some noise.”</p>
<p>He pulled Steve’s robe off his shoulders, then stood in front of him and let his own robe fall to the floor. Naked, he pulled Steve into his arms and kissed him deeply. He slid a hand down to cup Steve’s backside while the other pressed against the middle of his back. Steve pulled his face away to gasp in a breath, so Bucky started trailing kisses down Steve’s jaw to the perfect lobe of his ear. “I hope you won’t mind me going again so soon,” he whispered, “because I need you.”</p>
<p>Steve responded by tugging on Bucky’s shoulders and hitching his hips like he wanted to jump onto Bucky’s body. His cocklet, hard and urgent, slid along Bucky’s stiffening prick, nudged against his balls. Bucky lifted Steve just enough to push him onto the mattress. He followed along, crawling over him, dragging the tip of his cock along Steve’s abdomen, then pulling him higher onto the bed until Steve’s head was on a pillow, caged in by Bucky’s arms, protected by Bucky’s body in a bed that smelled like no one else.</p>
<p>Bucky shoved the covers to one side. He spread Steve’s legs, pressing his thighs apart, his knees up, his slick hole gaping open. He was about to just stick his cock in, but he got a strong whiff of Steve’s sweet smell. He shuddered and found himself on his knees with his head between Steve’s thighs and his mouth sucking at the tender flesh while Steve cried out helplessly. Slick coated Bucky’s tongue and he sucked and swallowed and teased more and more of it from Steve’s body. He pressed a finger, coated with Steve’s slick, into his ass while he widened Steve’s hole with his tongue.</p>
<p>It felt like Steve convulsed, but Bucky had a firm arm across Steve’s pelvis, so the only thing he could do was flail, gasp and cry out his pleasure. He felt Steve come over his tongue and shoot slick across his forearm even as more of it dripped into the palm of his other hand. He was coated in Steve’s slick. He never felt more powerful, more like an Alpha, than that moment. He withdrew his hand and tongue from Steve’s body and knelt up. He looked at Steve, loose-limbed and grinning, pink-cheeked and panting. He stroked his cock and Steve’s eyes clearly dropped down Bucky’s body to watch his hand cradling, caressing himself.</p>
<p>Steve tipped his hips up. He ran a hand down his own thigh toward his slick pussy. His other hand caressed his breasts, plucked at his nipples, then rested above his head. He raised his other hand and held them together, one wrist in one circle of fingers. He arched his back, lifting his breasts up toward Bucky. He spread his thighs even wider, pressing his knees against the mattress to either side. “Please, Bucky, please,” he said. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I want you in me again.”</p>
<p>Bucky held the tip of his cock against Steve’s opening. He bent forward and stared directly into Steve’s eyes as he slipped his cock into Steve’s pussy. Steve’s eyes started sliding shut even as his mouth fell open with a low moan. Bucky held the side of Steve’s head in one hand. “Look at me,” he said, his voice guttural and commanding. “Keep your eyes on me.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Steve said, obeying him, his voice a gasping whisper. “Yes, sir. Yes, Alpha. Oh, please, Alpha.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s cock was inside Steve, sliding home until he felt Steve’s heat surround his knot. He groaned then, his own eyes sliding shut. He felt both of Steve’s hands on his own face. One gave him a little smack. He opened his eyes and saw Steve smirking at him. “Eyes on me, mister,” he said.</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. “Yes, Omega. As you wish, Omega.” He began moving his cock in and out, letting need dictate the depth and pace of each thrust.</p>
<p>“Oh, God,” Steve cried out. He bared his neck and Bucky sealed his mouth over the pulse point. He sucked as he thrust, as Steve’s hips lifted up to him, as their bodies slammed together until Bucky’s knot popped, tying them together, sending Steve into another orgasm while Bucky started coming and coming again.</p>
<p>“My Omega,” Bucky said, “beautiful Omega. So beautiful. So good.”</p>
<p>Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. He guided Bucky’s head to rest on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. “My Alpha,” he whispered back. “My beautiful Alpha. So strong. So good to me.”</p>
<p>Each time Bucky’s cock pulsed and his knot jumped, Steve shuddered with another, smaller climax, releasing another wave of happy pheromones which made Bucky feel sexier and more powerful which set off another pulse of come. They remained tied together for almost fifteen minutes, their climaxes eventually diminishing until finally Bucky was able to slip himself back out of Steve’s body. They lay side by side for several more minutes, dozing, blissed-out, until Steve managed to say, “So I’m going to be sleeping here, huh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bucky said. He swallowed hard. “Uh, apparently, the First Lady convinced your O-OB/GYN to tell President Pierce that pregnant Omegas did better if they were in close proximity to their Alphas.”</p>
<p>He felt Steve’s body tense beside him. “That’s an old wives’ tale.”</p>
<p>“Your doctor says it has some basis in fact.”</p>
<p>“That doctor?” Steve scoffed. “Doctor ‘look at you presenting for me even though I told you to get into this position so I could  say I gave you a medical exam but you’re such a whore I have to fuck you instead’? That doctor?”</p>
<p>Bucky blinked twice at the ceiling. “Is that the Boston ‘Fuck You Insteads’ or the Chicago ‘Fuck You Insteads’?”</p>
<p>Steve slapped his arm with the back of his hand and giggled. “Jerk.”</p>
<p>He turned on his side toward Steve. He had no idea what to say. He wanted to challenge that so-called ‘Doctor’ and rip his throat out for betraying Steve’s trust like that. He wanted to take Steve away, lock him up safe in a luxury apartment so he never had to leave and never had to worry about deprivation. He wanted to claim Steve for himself, father Steve’s babies, grow old with him. Trouble was, none of that was his place. None of that thinking was even helpful, not right now. Bucky couldn’t solve Steve’s problems. What’s more, Steve wasn’t asking him to. Steve needed nothing from him but support. A shoulder to cry on. A friend.</p>
<p>“I hear that being an Omega isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he said, and hoped his comment would be taken as the small, kindly joke he’d intended.</p>
<p>Steve turned on his side to face Bucky. “Nope. I was sold a pack of lies.”</p>
<p>He tried a halfhearted smile and stroked a finger along Steve’s cheek. “I’m really sorry. I don’t want this life for you,” he said, then cursed himself. It wasn’t about him. It was about Steve.</p>
<p>“It’s fine, Buck. I’m surviving. I’ve got it a lot better than some others.”</p>
<p>Bucky rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>“I live in the freakin’ White House,” Steve said flatly. “I don’t have to work. I don’t have to cook or clean or fight traffic. I don’t have bills to pay or places to be. I’m in the lap of luxury. Bonded to the Leader of the Free World, trademark pending.”</p>
<p>Bucky smirked. “Does anyone else know what a sassy little punk you are?”</p>
<p>Steve’s answering grin dimmed into a painfully earnest expression. “No one knows anything about me, not anymore. No one but you, Bucky. I don’t think you realize how much I’m depending on you. I shouldn’t. I know you have other priorities. But I value this time with you so much and I want you to know – “</p>
<p>“Hey, hey,” Bucky said, reaching out to Steve. He pulled him back into his arms. “Don’t…there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you. Don’t ever think different, okay?” He kissed Steve’s forehead. “This is the one time I get to act like myself. Here, in this room where I’m reasonably certain there aren’t any recording devices.”</p>
<p>Steve jerked back from him. “What? Recording devices?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bucky said seriously. “You know almost the entire White House is being recorded every moment of every day, right? Just a few rooms aren’t. Just these six rooms. The Pierce’s bedrooms, bathrooms and sitting rooms.”</p>
<p>“The solarium?” Steve stared at him. “Where we had that conversation?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, but don’t worry. That’s just video of the door,” Bucky assured him. “Mrs. Pierce doesn’t like her conversations recorded, either.”</p>
<p>“How do you know what’s being recorded and what isn’t?”</p>
<p>“Relax, Steve,” Bucky said. He kissed his mouth. “Pierce told me. So I’d know where I could discuss state secrets and where I couldn’t. Plus, I’ve seen the security room. I’ve seen the footage they’ve collected. It’s also why I asked you to tell me if you heard anything. Because there aren’t recordings of what goes on in here where you spend so much time alone with them.”</p>
<p>Steve’s lips were motionless beneath his as he kissed him again and again, then they softened and Steve started kissing him back. Bucky started caressing Steve’s body again, the long lines of it, the curving ass. Steve slid his thigh across Bucky’s lap. His slick heat cradled Bucky’s cock, but they weren’t ready to fuck again just yet.</p>
<p>“I worry about you,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t know if you were disappeared. They’d never tell me.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you,” Bucky said. “I’ll get word to you. I have sources I can trust here.”</p>
<p>“Other spies, you mean?”</p>
<p>“I’m not a spy,” he replied automatically.</p>
<p>“Of course, you are,” Steve said. “Only a spy would know or care so much about security for secret conversations.”</p>
<p>“I could just be a very private person,” he retorted. “Or hate the sound of my own voice.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed. “No one could hate the sound of your voice! It’s – uh. It’s really nice.”</p>
<p>Bucky enjoyed the way Steve’s blush swept across his neck and jawline. “Really nice? My voice is really nice? You think so?”</p>
<p>“Stop it,” Steve said, still laughing. He dropped his face to Bucky’s chest. “But it is. You know it is.”</p>
<p>Bucky giggled and began to sing, deliberately off-key, the song that his parents had danced to at their bonding ceremony, the song they played every year on their anniversary while they slow-danced in the kitchen and their children pretended to gag but secretly loved every sappy moment of it, “See the pyramids along the Ni-i-le! Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle…” He twisted them, rolling on top of a delighted Steve, slotting his hips between Steve’s thighs, his voice dipping into a lower, more intimate register with, “Just remember, darling, all-ll the whi-ile…” He tried. He tried so hard to keep teasing him by singing badly but when it came to the next line, he just couldn’t help it. He stared directly into Steve’s eyes, into his soul, and sang softly, sincerely, “you belong to me…”</p>
<p>It was a long time before either of them thought to continue their conversation.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Steve’s heat hit him harder the second day, just as expected. He woke up earlier than normal, while Pierce was starting to sit up in bed and watch TV. The valet was pouring Pierce and Natasha’s coffee. She was stretching herself awake with some yoga poses next to the bed. And Steve, uncaring of the people around him, knew only that an Alpha was close by. He wasn’t the best Alpha, but he had been strong and was still powerful, and Steve climbed over the Alpha’s hips and ground down.</p>
<p>“For God’s sake, Stevie,” someone said. There was a flurry of motion. Coffee, juice, pills and then pants pulled down and a cock spearing up into his pussy. Steve sank down onto the cock and threw his head back. Aging hands on his tits, his hips, as they ground and lifted and thrust downward again. He leaned forward, put his hands on the Alpha’s chest. There was more give there than he’d expected, but it was still an Alpha fucking into him. Still an Alpha’s knot filling him up. More voices, more coffee, more people in the room. Lesser Alphas, a Beta – too many people. Steve huddled into the Alpha’s chest. He needed the Alpha’s protection. He nuzzled into someone’s chest.</p>
<p>“Stop that.”</p>
<p>His face was shoved to the side. He’d done something wrong, something bad. The knot was still inside him. He sat upright. He wanted to be touched. Just as the knot started to go down, he felt Beta hands on his chest, cupping his tits, pulling him to one side. Another cock shoved up into him. It wasn’t real. The Beta was staring down at him like a statue. She was just like a statue: cold and beautiful and remote. She pushed him onto his knees. The Alpha had left the bed. Steve grabbed the Alpha’s pillow and tried to satisfy himself with the scent of whiskey, cigars, money. Somewhere beneath all that, he smelled woodsmoke and pine. He reached a hand between his legs and rubbed his little cock. The Beta pulled his hand away.</p>
<p>“Don’t do that.”</p>
<p>He braced himself on the mattress. He hated this feeling. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be fucked by them. Where was his Alpha – his real Alpha? The one who sang to him, comforted him, who made him feel such wonderful things? He bit the edges of his tongue so he wouldn’t speak. He needed his Alpha, though. He could beg. They’d never know if he begged.</p>
<p>“Please-please-please,” he begged. “Please.”</p>
<p>The cock in his pussy started to swell. The pressure was the same as it always was. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t organic. It wasn’t right, but it was okay. He could pretend. He shoved the pillow into his face and tried to pretend. His Alpha, his beautiful Alpha was inside him, was knotting him and it was going to feel so good once he could come, but then the hands holding up his hips were gone, the Beta had left and he was alone on the bed. He was alone on the bed. He could rub himself off on the bed with the thing knotted inside him. It wasn’t as satisfying, but it scratched some of his itch as his slick pooled into a wet spot. His nipples were hard points pushing into the mattress. He wanted. He wanted. So many things. There was no point in getting excited if he wasn’t going to find relief. He had to wait for his Alpha. He had to wait.</p>
<p>It took so long for his Alpha to get there but he came through the door at last. Steve immediately lifted his hips. He presented, his gaping pussy begging to be taken. He whimpered. He couldn’t form words. He stretched his arms in front of him on the mattress, spread his thighs wider. Maybe he didn’t look attractive enough. Maybe he wasn’t presenting correctly. Slick was pouring out of him, coating his thighs. He lowered his chest. His nipples rubbed along the sheets.</p>
<p>Then warm hands patted his ass. They spread his cheeks apart. A tongue, hot and slick and mobile slid along his tender flesh. The hands lifted his hips higher, pulled him upward to balance with his forearms and shoulders and face on the bed. The tongue and lips devoured him, licked and sucked him from cocklet to asshole. He smelled Alpha – warm, pleased Alpha. Triumphant Alpha. Protective Alpha.</p>
<p>Steve cried out as he came. The Alpha grabbed him around the waist and sucked and licked faster, harder. Steve’s hips were lifted up higher. The Alpha’s cock was suddenly right there in front of his face. Steve took hold of it with one hand and began to lick at the tip of it and stroke the shaft. The Alpha’s scent emanated from the cock in his hands, coating Steve’s tongue, his nose, and swirled through his brain. Everything became Alpha. What control he had been holding onto, he gladly let slip away.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Steve was incredible. Responsive. Eager. Compliant and present and loving. He was the sexiest person – Alpha, Beta or Omega – that Bucky had ever seen, known, heard of. Walking into the president’s bedroom that morning, Bucky hadn’t been certain what he’d find. Last time, Steve had been in an aroused haze, whimpering on the end of the First Lady’s dildo. This morning, he came in to find Steve humping the bed, a knotting dildo slipping out of him, while President Pierce sipped coffee and watched the television, and the First Lady nibbled a piece of bacon. They’d left almost immediately, to Bucky’s relief. Pierce only nodded to him, but Natasha greeted him pleasantly and added, “She’s extra needy today. Hope you hydrated.”</p>
<p>He put them from his mind when he allowed himself to take a good long sniff of Steve’s pheromones. They seemed to take up every inch of the room. It was a familiar scent, of course, but there was the distinctive note of camphor from the heat-inducing drugs he’d been given. Once he’d gotten his face in Steve’s pussy, though, all bets were off. It took at least two hours of constant sex before he had to stop. Coated in Steve’s slick, Steve splattered with and oozing Bucky’s come, they now laid side by side on the bed, covers askew, the television still on in the corner.</p>
<p><em>“Renewed fighting has broken out along the eastern banks of the Mississippi River,” </em>the newscaster announced<em>, “as rebel troops attacked the formerly peaceful suburbs of Vicksburg, site of a brutal months-long siege in the first Civil War. The cowardly rebels attacked in the wee hours of the morning, frightening the good citizens of this Mississippi town with a barrage of laser weapons and bombs. Reports surfaced of armored soldiers flying above the downtown city streets, indiscriminately setting fires to buildings and homes and causing numerous casualties. This network wishes to remind our viewers that cellphone footage of the battle has been classified Top Secret and must be turned over to the authorities. Those who fail to do this can and will be charged with treason for disobeying an Executive Order. Just don’t film the battle, folks. And don’t go onto the Internet and try to find footage of it, either. We’ve heard that President Pierce is signing another executive order to make viewing of such material a felony. And now, coming to you live from the Tennessee State Fairgrounds is Jill DeWitt with a heartwarming story about a little girl who lost her father in the Battle of Kansas City and her blue-ribbon pig. Jill?”</em></p>
<p>“I think you broke me,” Bucky said. “Fucking hell, Steve. I feel like I lost time there.”</p>
<p>“Want.”</p>
<p>Bucky turned his head. “You okay there, pal? You sure you’re still up for it? That last one there, uh, you kind of checked out on me. Maybe you should try to rest a little. Or eat something.” Steve had simply stopped responding while Bucky was about to pop his knot. While he hesitated, trying to decide if he should pull out or if Steve was just in a happiness haze, Steve’s hips twitched and that was it. Bucky had knotted him. Thanks to the rut, his body kept producing semen, knotting and ejaculating each time like the first, even if the orgasmic sensation itself diminished over time. But Omegas had to eat, to sleep, and that gave the Alphas time to recover for the next round.</p>
<p>“Alpha…”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes were closed. His mouth barely moved as he spoke. His whole body just lay there where Bucky left him, splayed out and motionless and covered in so much drying bodily fluids.</p>
<p>“You’re a mess, babe,” he chuckled. He sat up and winced. There was semen and slick still sticking to his dick. His knot hadn’t completely deflated, and it looked a little bruised. He had a feeling he’d pulled a muscle in his ass, which was odd, hilarious, and difficult to remedy. “I’m a mess.” He’d taken pains with his appearance that morning, wanting to look nice for Steve. Now he wondered why he had bothered. Steve wasn’t noticing anything.</p>
<p><em>“-Thanks, Jill!” </em>the newscaster was back<em>. “Gosh, that pig sure was cute. Boy, I could really go for some ribs right now. What about you, Gary?”</em></p>
<p>The camera shifted to the newscaster’s sidekick.<em> “You said it, Brian. Hey, maybe we can get an intern to go out to JC’s Real Pit Barbecue. They smoke it all day, so you know it’s done right.”</em></p>
<p>“Fuck you, Brian and Gary,” Bucky muttered. “That’s an adorable, prizewinning pig.” He stood up and stretched. A moment later, he’d lifted Steve into his arms and taken him into the shower where he tenderly cleaned him up. The steam, the soft tone he used as he narrated what he was doing, made Steve’s eyes droop enough that Bucky was reasonably certain he would sleep for a little. Dried off and back in bed, Bucky turned on the closed captioning on the TV and then muted the sound. They would return to the report about Vicksburg eventually.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The third day was less frantic, less incoherent. Steve was still eager, still sensitive, but he could carry a conversation again. He had straddled Bucky’s lap, worked himself over Bucky’s cock, gotten himself knotted and was resting on Bucky’s chest when he asked, “Are you ever going to ask me if I’ve heard anything about Rebirth, or am I supposed to be reporting back to you on my own?”</p>
<p>Bucky blinked at him. “Do you have news for me?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure. But I did want to know how I’m supposed to be doing this. I mean, is there a dead drop or something? Do I put a flag in a potted plant in the solarium or wear a rose behind one ear?” Steve grinned.</p>
<p>“You watch a lot of movies, don’t you.”</p>
<p>“I used to,” Steve said. “I don’t really get around much anymore.”</p>
<p>Bucky pulled him closer, stroking a hand down his back. “There was an email in my inbox yesterday from Coulson’s secretary stating that you were going to be present at every meeting that Pierce was going to be at, and if there were a problem with that, then the First Lady would have to be notified.”</p>
<p>Steve tensed. “I really have to spend all day with him?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said, continuing to stroke Steve’s back. “Except for national security stuff, maybe. Maybe not. I’m not sure anyone’s going to kick you out of a meeting if they have to deal with Natasha Pierce first. You’re probably just going to sit there at Pierce’s feet or somewhere in the room.”</p>
<p>Steve hid his face against Bucky’s chest. “Fuck me. Fuck my life.”</p>
<p>“On the plus side,” Bucky said, “I’m in most of those meetings, and you might need some fresh air, or a snack, or help to the bathroom. I’m happy to volunteer.”</p>
<p>Steve was silent for a long moment. “I might,” he said slowly. “When is this decision going to be made, anyway? Have they said yet?”</p>
<p>“I start my last baseline physical tomorrow. Rumlow’s got his scheduled a few days after mine.”</p>
<p>“Which means what?”</p>
<p>“A run around the Mall, some weightlifting, some stress tests. Jumping jacks, pull-ups. That sort of thing.”</p>
<p>Steve frowned. “Should you be having all this sex before doing all that for a test?”</p>
<p>Bucky laughed. “That’s a myth. This is fine. If anything,” here he bucked his hips a few times, making Steve laugh, which tightened his muscles around Bucky’s cock, making Bucky feel good, “this is inspiring me.”</p>
<p>“You ever going to tell me the real reason you’re so worried about Rumlow getting this weapon instead of you?”</p>
<p>There were a dozen things he could say ranging from the absolute truth to the most self-serving lie. The last thing he wanted to do was undermine Steve’s trust in him, but at the same time, he couldn’t risk Steve knowing too much. Bucky had no way of knowing if Steve could keep a truly large secret, and it wasn’t just Bucky’s life on the line. The person chosen for Rebirth would alter the course of the war. It needed to be Bucky. He couldn’t risk it being anyone else.</p>
<p>“I wish I could,” he finally said. “Please trust me when I say it’s better for you if I don’t.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t look happy, but he allowed Bucky to kiss him again. By the time Bucky had cleaned them both off, gotten Steve into his pajamas and into his bed to rest, though, he was smiling and even laughing a little. Bucky left his bedroom wishing he could talk to his parents and get their advice. Hell. He’d even settle for Becca. Maybe even Wash.</p>
<p>What was he supposed to do with all the feelings he was developing? They weren’t in the plan he and his handler had developed. No, the plan was to get the serum and get out. Sabotage any chance of the project scientists making more, take all samples, make copies and then destroy all notes and files, burn the place down while taking everything of value with him and fleeing to safety. If he couldn’t get the information to the US, then he had to destroy everything, no matter what, no matter how, no matter who.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Dinner Party Invasion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve learns more about Project Rebirth. Pierce fails to learn from history.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Just over a week later, Steve was ordered to present himself for dinner in the president’s private dining room. Angie told Steve he was to be on his absolutely best behavior because the president was having special guests. When Steve asked why Angie wasn’t attending herself, she explained that Natasha had arranged for her to be lent out to attend a private party for a ‘special someone at the British Embassy.’ Steve tried to be happy for Angie. After all, he’d been permitted to attend a private party at Coulson’s, right? This was probably just the same sort of thing. This probably happened all the time, and Steve was just too selfish to not be jealous, especially considering how much he wanted to recreate that night with Bucky.</p><p>Before she left, Angie had helped Steve lay out a new set of clothing for the dinner, and Steve looked at the selection now. Freshly showered, his hair clean, soft and curling across his shoulders and a few inches down his back, naked, he stood in the center of his room and tried to be calm. “No one’s actually going to talk to you,” he told himself. “They just want to look at you. You just have to sit up straight, eat half of what you actually are hungry for, and smile like you’re having a good time. You can do this. Omegas do this all the time. So can you.”</p><p>They’d chosen a new outfit in a midnight blue silk, what there was of it. The silver belt went on first. It was longer, designed to cling to the wider part of his hips. This allowed a large sapphire to be stuck into his navel with adhesive and not be covered up by the belt. To the belt, he attached the silk panty, tucking his cocklet into the little pouch of cloth, and tried to get the thin blue strap to separate his butt cheeks more comfortably. The portion of fabric that pressed up against his flesh behind his cocklet was softer, rounder, and slipped easily between his folds of skin. He wondered if it was supposed to sit that tight. The matching bandeau clasped in front between his breasts, secured by a twisted piece of silver that hooked fast but looked flimsy. The fabric was padded in such a way that pushed his breasts up a little before smoothing into a two-inch strap around his back. It made him look twice as endowed as he actually was, almost like he was full of milk or a pre-teen Beta, a disturbing thought.</p><p>There were no pantaloons with this outfit, just silver slippers with thin straps that crisscrossed his legs up to his thighs. It felt almost like wearing tights until he walked and realized he could feel every slight movement of air against his skin. The last piece of the ensemble was a cloak of blue silk trimmed in silver faux fur. As was standard for Omega clothing, there weren’t armholes. The cloak closed in the front with several hidden buttons. The fabric fell in a loose drape from his shoulders to an inch above the floor. It was warm, comfortable, and surprisingly modest. He was ready.</p><p>He’d anticipated wearing the birthday present Pierce had gotten him, the long chain with the pendants, but Angie had retrieved it before his induced heat claiming that Miss Natasha wanted to have it professionally cleaned. Steve didn’t expect to see the jewelry again.</p><p>Per the arrangement, Steve stepped into Pierce’s bedroom where he found the president and his valet adjusting the hang of his suit coat. Pierce barely gave Steve a glance, but the valet nodded approvingly at him.</p><p>“Let’s go,” Pierce said, waving away the valet. “I’m starving.” He led Steve through to Natasha’s sitting room. The door to her bedroom was open and Steve got his first glimpse of the First Lady’s private boudoir. There was a lot of pink and white. Pierce called out to his wife and she appeared in the doorway, dramatically posed.</p><p>“How do I look, my love?” she cooed. She wore a tight green dress that clung to her curves. The neckline dipped low, framing her cleavage and setting off a large diamond necklace on a thick chain. Diamonds hung from her ears and adorned her wrists. Steve saw even the open toes of her high heeled shoes had diamonds on them. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn they were all real.</p><p>“Sexy and beautiful,” Pierce replied. “I can’t wait to peel that dress off you.”</p><p>She grinned. “Just the dress?”</p><p>Pierce grinned back. Steve felt distinctly awkward to be witnessing this conversation but, he supposed, he was bonded to them. Legally, they were partners. Next of kin.</p><p>Then a servant or someone knocked on the door and called through that the guests had arrived. Pierce held out his elbow to Natasha and led her to the door. Steve followed along, his face turned downward respectfully.</p><p>They went into the family room first where Natasha, and Steve by default, was introduced to four Alpha scientists, “each a great thinker in his chosen field,” Pierce assured her, “Dr. Schmidt, Dr. Killian, Dr. Sterns, and Dr. Zola.” None of them seemed to have any romantic interests in their lives or Steve assumed they might have brought someone with them. The Alphas instead seemed to have dedicated their lives to their studies, which seemed to be focused on bioengineering, mechanical engineering, genetic engineering, and something called ‘big data,’ respectively.</p><p>“My dear Mrs. Pierce,” Dr. Zola explained when Natasha asked what ‘big data’ was, “I am more of the project manager of this, well, project. I oversee the data that is pulled from the experiments, from the research, from external sources, and I extrapolate all the information that I can. Using this information, I am able to make predictions with a high degree of certainty which aids the other scientists in their work. I prevent, how is it put, ‘dogs barking up the wrong bush’?”</p><p>Killian laughed. It brought color to his cheeks and made him almost handsome. “It’s a tree, Arnie. Dogs bark up the wrong tree. It’s a hunting metaphor.”</p><p>“Tree. Ah, yes,” Zola replied and adjusted his round glasses.</p><p>Steve noticed that Killian and Schmidt were both using crutches to improve their mobility. Killian leaned on his while Schmidt had braces strapped to his spindly legs and used a specialized cane in each hand for balance. Sterns had a perpetually interested expression on his face. It made him look mentally facile, but then he said something about experiments with specific kinds of radiation and their effects on specific blood types and genome sequences. It made Steve keenly feel his lack of proper education.</p><p>Then Schmidt turned and gestured toward Steve with one of his footed canes. “And who exactly is this lovely creature, hm?”</p><p>“Oh,” Pierce demurred, “just my Omega, Stevie.”</p><p>Natasha grinned delightedly. “She’s pregnant!”</p><p>Steve hadn’t expected the announcement. He’d only had the fact confirmed the day before by the private White House medical staff. Still, he smiled gamely as the Alphas congratulated Natasha and Pierce.</p><p>“Let us see,” Schmidt said suddenly. “Let us see where the infant grows, the fertile fields of crimson and rose.”</p><p>Pierce frowned. “Poetry, Johann?”</p><p>“A loose translation, yes,” Schmidt replied. He gestured again. “But let us see. New life is exhilarating. Enchanting! To see it happen before you is to know Gods still exist.”</p><p>“There’s only one God,” Pierce said, even as Natasha stepped in front of Steve and began unbuttoning his cloak. She looked at him directly, her expression hard and unreadable and maybe a little sad? Steve couldn’t tell – he glanced away quickly, remembering her warning against looking her in the eyes.</p><p>With a flourish, Natasha stepped to one side and slid the cloak off Steve’s shoulders. He stood in front of the Alphas almost completely bared to their hungry gazes. Zola’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward a little toward Steve, obviously not looking at Steve’s face. Sterns openly stared at Steve’s crotch, the patch of deep blue at the uppermost join of his thighs. Killian licked his lips and Schmidt nodded appreciatively.</p><p>Steve felt his pulse quicken and focused on keeping his breaths even and calm. For some reason, having Schmidt’s attention on him felt both oppressive and thrilling at the same time. It was almost as if he were suddenly in full sunlight receiving every benefit of the heat and light, and yet everyone could see him – see all of him – and he had an urge to hide. He had an equal urge to go to his knees.</p><p>“May I?” Schmidt asked Pierce. He held up a long-fingered hand. Pierce waved invitingly toward Steve, taking a step back. Schmidt grinned and moved forward, his gait smooth despite the crutches, until he stood in front of Steve, smiling down at him from his almost six feet of height, and pulled his hand loose from the cane. He flexed his palm and fingers and laid it flat against Steve’s abdomen. Steve wanted to avert his eyes, but Schmidt had captured Steve’s gaze and he was helpless before the surprisingly dominant Alpha.</p><p>Should he pull away? Should he stand still as if Schmidt’s touch meant nothing to him, as if he weren’t affected? Schmidt’s palm was warm from the metal, but his bony fingers were cold from poor circulation. He pressed his hand against Steve’s body, then moved it downward to cup Steve’s cocklet. Steve couldn’t prevent himself from gasping. The time to resist was past. Schmidt’s long middle finger curled around Steve’s cocklet and pushed, pressed, and wriggled until it was wedged between the folds of Steve’s skin.</p><p>“There, there, little one,” Schmidt said softly. “Let me in, let me in. So sweet, you are. How delicious you must be.”</p><p>Steve’s jaw dropped. He consciously closed his mouth in an effort not to appear overcome. He wanted to push Schmidt away. He wanted to grab his cloak and leave. He wanted to protest this cavalier treatment, make these Alphas understand what they were doing was wrong. But they’d never truly know it. They’d never truly understand. It was all in Schmidt’s eyes. He was enjoying himself, enjoying watching Steve struggle, and he was going to enjoy seeing what would make Steve finally break.</p><p>“That’s enough, Johann.” Pierce’s tone was indulgent and fond. “Let’s get some dinner.”</p><p>Schmidt slid his hand away from Steve. His eyes never left Steve’s as he delicately licked his fingers clean before taking control of his cane again. “Indeed,” Schmidt said, as if nothing untoward had happened, “I am famished.”</p><p>Stunned, Steve remained in place as the Alphas filed out into the adjoining dining room. Natasha lingered long enough to frown at Steve before moving into the next room ahead of him.</p><p>Dinner was probably delicious, but Steve couldn’t seem to enjoy it. A thin soup, a bright salad, then a course of fish and one of sliced steak and all he could do was eat mechanically and try not to squirm on the cushioned chair. He wanted to leave the room but at the same time, he didn’t want to stand up and see proof that he’d left a wet spot behind him.</p><p>The conversation centered on travel, the sort of travel wealthy or connected people did. Schmidt, apparently, came from money. Steve learned that Schmidt was born in Munich and studied in Paris, Prague and Gstaad, and despite that, all Steve could think about was the man’s slender fingers pressing between Steve’s thighs. He kept seeing Schmidt’s eyes boring down into Steve’s soul, taking it over, forcing out every thought except <em>‘this is an Alpha and you must obey him.’</em> Steve had almost gone to his knees, gone to present, perhaps, to forget himself entirely. Sometimes it was just too much work to fight, so much easier to give in and be what everyone expected.</p><p>Except Bucky. Bucky didn’t want that. He liked Steve exactly the way he already was. He knew Steve thought of himself as a boy and was okay with that. Steve’s thoughts of Bucky made Schmidt’s dominance fade. His head clearer, Steve tried to refocus on the conversation, but none of it seemed important. Then Schmidt said something that made every hair on Steve’s body want to stand up on end. He said, “In Europe, Omegas are decorated less conservatively than you have Stevie here.”</p><p>“Less conservatively, you say?” Killian said with a laugh. “She’s barely wearing any clothes now.”</p><p>“I’d heard this,” Pierce said. “I’ve seen some. I’ve been wondering how to implement that here, but you know, this country was settled by Puritans. That kind of socializing is hard to overcome.”</p><p>“This may be true,” Schmidt said, “but perhaps an example, such as Stevie here, would set a trend.”</p><p>“In Russia,” Natasha said, spearing a potato with her fork, “Omegas wear same clothes as everyone else. Only when I come to the West do I see Omegas dressed in such fashion. I must say, I like it.”</p><p>“Me, too,” Sterns said. “You know what you’re getting. No surprises.”</p><p>“European Omegas are proud of their gender expression,” Zola offered. “They do not hide their, what’s the English? Cock-let? They decorate it with chains, rings, jewelry. It can be exquisite.”</p><p>“Jewelry?” Killian repeated with an expression of distaste. “Like a ring… around it?”</p><p>“No, Dr. Killian,” Zola replied easily. “Through it.” He made a gesture with his fork.</p><p>“Like a Prince Albert?” Sterns said suddenly. “A guy in my frat had one. He liked to show it off to everyone, but it got infected. Boy! Was that a mess.”</p><p>“Sounds disgusting and irrelevant,” Pierce said firmly. “I’ve seen European Omegas with tattooed cocklets, or some with sounds that are connected to their belt so it pulls the cocklet out and forward. I think that’s disgusting. Like they’re trying to make the cocklet into a real cock.” He shook his head. “That’s where I draw the line. Omegas are not Alphas.”</p><p>“Of course not,” Schmidt agreed smoothly. “They typically do not wear the chest piece, the bandeau, I believe it’s called, even in English?”</p><p>Sterns frowned for a moment. “Then what do they wear?”</p><p>“As I said: the jewelry.” He shrugged. “I agree with Dr. Zola. Omegas should be proud of their gender expression. They are formed to provide pleasure to every sense and a satisfaction few Betas can match, present company excluded, of course, I am sure.”</p><p>Natasha nodded graciously.</p><p>“Europeans also do not hold with this romanticized notion of ‘bonding.’ We find it an archaic practice. We much prefer the idea of conquering an Omega – any Omega – we like. And Omegas prefer being constantly chased.”</p><p>“And Betas?” Natasha asked.</p><p>Schmidt smiled. “Betas should run the world as they are above such nonsense.”</p><p>Their plates were cleared soon after. Servants brought out pumpkin-spiced coffee, brandy and a pumpkin cheesecake. Once the drinks had been poured and the cake served, the servants back behind closed doors once more, Natasha delicately cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, let us discuss business. How goes our magic potion, hm?”</p><p>Steve stilled, covering his reaction by poking his cake and swirling the frosting through the raspberry filling. No one was looking at him, thank goodness.</p><p>“It’s not a potion, Mrs. Pierce,” Zola said in his painfully sincere way. “The serum is a miracle.”</p><p>“It’s a joke,” Killian said. “She doesn’t actually think it’s a magic potion like in the movies or anything.”</p><p>“No?” Zola didn’t seem convinced.</p><p>Schmidt sat back in his chair. “Once we know who the test subject will be,” he said, “then we can complete the formula. It is dependent upon the subject, you see. There are accommodations which must be made.”</p><p>Pierce frowned. “Well, how different can the two candidates be?”</p><p>“Completely,” Sterns said, his mouth full of cake. “I mean, they’re Alphas, sure, and they share certain physical similarities, but that’s not what the formula latches onto.”</p><p>“It enhances the subject,” Schmidt said. “The formula goes into the brain and changes everything. It makes improvements. Crooked becomes straight. Intelligence becomes genius. Confidence becomes dominance.” His eyes drifted across the table toward Steve. “Submission becomes… overwhelming obedience.”</p><p>Sterns added with an uncomplicated grin, “Which one do you want more of?”</p><p>That’s when a general discussion broke out about the pros and cons of choosing Brock Rumlow over Bucky Barnes, though they never referred to either candidate by name. Steve found it much easier to pay attention to that conversation. The tide of support for one over the other ebbed and flowed as the conversation grew animated, ridiculous, tense and theoretical by turns. What made a good soldier? What made a good soldier a good leader? What made a good leader loyal to his commanding officer? What was better in a soldier, obedience or independent thinking?</p><p>Eventually, as the Alphas settled into their second or third brandies and a fresh pot of coffee was being brewed, Schmidt posed the question to Steve. “You have been quiet,” he said, “but I noticed you’ve been paying attention. What do you think? As an Omega, you have unique insights we lack. What do you hope for in a leader, hm? As you lay your head on your pillow at night, what is it you hope for? What sort of Alpha do you wish was in your bed, spreading your thighs wide so he can rut between them?”</p><p>“Johann!” Natasha squealed. “Don’t be crude!” She cackled loudly, clearly more than a bit drunk.</p><p>Pierce just sat back in his chair. “Answer him, Stevie,” he said. “I want to know, too.”</p><p>Steve looked around the table at the others. Sterns, Killian and Zola regarded him politely enough. Schmidt’s interest fairly gleamed in his eyes. “Well,” Steve began, gathering his thoughts, “a good leader takes consensus,” he began, flicking his gaze at Pierce before returning it to the midpoint of Schmidt’s chest. “Like Pres-er, the president is doing now, and then makes a decision that benefits as many people as possible while hurting as few people as possible. A leader never asks their followers to do something he – or she – wouldn’t do themselves. A good leader sacrifices more for his people than he asks them to sacrifice for his sake. But that might not be the sort of person you’re hoping for. It might not be either candidate.”</p><p>The Alphas laughed at his words while Natasha sipped her drink and stared coolly at him. “She’s adorable,” Killian said. “I see why you chose her.”</p><p>“Trust me,” Pierce said, “it wasn’t for her <em>mind</em>.”</p><p>The Alphas roared with laughter again. The conversation did not return to the qualities of leadership.</p><p>Once Pierce was done with the other Alphas’ company, they said their good-nights and left the dining room. Steve felt relieved as Schmidt made his way down the hall, the other three Alphas following respectfully behind. Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly, glad he’d soon be asleep in his bed. Then Natasha slid her hand from his shoulder to his ass.</p><p>“Come, little girl,” she said, “keep us warm tonight.”</p><p>Steve swallowed hard and followed her.</p><p>**</p><p>Natasha’s bedroom floor was covered in a thick carpet that felt like fur under Steve’s bare feet. The pink and white he’d glimpsed from the outer room was just a prelude to the actual space. Literally everything was either pink or white, or an ombre of pink to white, from dark pink to pale pink. It made Steve deeply uncomfortable. Pierce, on the other hand, barely blinked before pulling off his suit – a splash of black wool to stain the pink and white perfection of the room – and sliding into his wife’s canopy bed, shoving the covers down. Steve, uncertain what was expected of him, stood with his hands at his sides and his eyes cast downward while Natasha skimmed off her tight dress and disappeared into her bathroom clad only in her own panties.</p><p>“My wife is a sexy woman,” Pierce said, propping himself up with pillows. “She’s wanted to do this for a while.”</p><p>“This?” Steve prompted after it seemed no further explanation was forthcoming.</p><p>“You.” Pierce sighed. “She’s got a weakness for pretty Omegas,” he went on. “In Russia, she did some high-end modeling with Omegas. Leather and whips. But classy. High-end. She was a top model, you know. One of the top Betas in the world. So beautiful. I saw her and I knew and I was right. I’m always right.”</p><p>Steve gave a small, agreeable nod. He felt his heart thudding harder in his chest. He’d had crushes on Betas, sure. There were some Beta actors he’d thought were exceptionally beautiful, and a certain singer-songwriter he still admired, but he’d never thought anything like that about Natasha Pierce. She was terrifying, dangerous, and mercurial in temperament. She’d beaten his feet so hard just for having a miscarriage that he couldn’t walk comfortably for a week. She was waiting for him to give birth so that she could take his child away from him and who knew if she even cared what might happen to him after he gave her the only thing she apparently wanted?</p><p>He concentrated on his breathing. He heard the toilet flush and the sound of water running in a sink. A moment later, the door opened. Natasha stood there, naked, staring at Steve and smiling with a predatory gleam. She reached over and flipped the light switches. The only illumination now was from the single lamp on the bedside table opposite Pierce. Natasha stalked toward Steve, her hips and shoulders rolling with her stride. She cupped his face with her hands.</p><p>“So pretty,” she said. “This one is really so very pretty.”</p><p>His ingrained courtesy prompted him to thank her, but her instructions to him on his first day in the White House kept him silent. The months at the Federal School kept his hands at his sides though he desperately wanted to give himself a hug. Miserable, he remained still.</p><p>She started kissing him. Her lips tasted of wax and mint. Her hands were slightly cool as they unhooked the silver clasp and let his bandeau fall to the floor.</p><p>“Damn,” she breathed. Louder, she said, “I tell you, Sasha, Omegas make me so hot. I may not let you fuck her.”</p><p>“I just want to watch you have fun,” Pierce called back. “Play with her however you like.”</p><p>Natasha grinned. “Absolutely.”</p><p>Steve just did what she told him to do. He got up on the bed and presented for her. He turned his face toward Pierce as she spanked and then fucked him with her strap-on. She turned on the vibration and gasped her way to a climax. Just as he was about to succumb, though, she pulled out and pushed him onto his back. Natasha bent down to mouth at his straining cocklet. She licked and sucked and made noises like she was getting off on this act alone.</p><p>The feeling was extraordinary for Steve. Feeling wet heat and pressure on the slickening folds of flesh, his straining cocklet, dipping into his hole – had he been able to look down to see Bucky’s dark head bobbing between his thighs he would have been overcome twice now. Seeing Natasha’s red hair, knowing Pierce was next to him, staring, judging, muted his enjoyment.</p><p>When Natasha was satisfied, and his stiff cocklet soaking wet with saliva and slick, she straddled his hips and began fucking herself on him. He couldn’t penetrate her, not far and not well, but she didn’t seem to care. She braced herself on his chest, one hand on each breast, and rotated her hips. She grinned at Pierce.</p><p>Pierce rested his hand on top of hers on Steve’s breast. “You like it, hm? You like fucking Omegas?”</p><p>Natasha pulled her hand away then placed it on top of Pierce’s. She squeezed his hand onto Steve’s body then sat upright. “Play with her,” she commanded. “She will respond to you and please me more.”</p><p>Obediently, Pierce leaned forward and began suckling at Steve’s breast. He opened his mouth and laved the nipple, the whole meat of his pectoral. Steve felt a strong wave of erotic submission come over him as Pierce’s arousal grew. He lifted his chest to Pierce’s mouth and felt another hand at his other breast, pinching and pulling at the nipple. He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and saw Pierce’s fingers plucking at him.</p><p>“That’s it,” Pierce said, growling as he placed open-mouthed kisses along Steve’s shoulder and neck. “I smell it. I feel it. You like this. You like being fucked. You don’t care who it is. I could have those scientists in here. They’d line up and take turns. You’d love it, wouldn’t you? Even those cripples, Schmidt and Killian. You’d even take their knots.”</p><p>Natasha squirmed faster. “Oh, Sasha,” she cried out, “Husband! More! Talk more – give me the words!”</p><p>“You’d stretch your legs apart,” Pierce said, “and beg them to take you. You’d present for them, just like you presented for Rumlow. Your ass up and your arms out and their big Alpha knot splitting you open.”</p><p>Steve gave a small cry. Natasha’s squirming was succeeding in stimulating his cocklet. Pierce’s fingers and even his mouth helped make him feel more desired and protected. With his eyes closed, he could almost substitute in Bucky. He could imagine Bucky beside him. Bucky suckling his breasts. Bucky whispering to him how sexy and hot he thought Steve was. Bucky getting ready to knot Steve. In their bed. In their home. Their own private house where they lived in safety – he gave another cry and shuddered. It wasn’t quite an orgasm, but it was definitely a climax of some kind.</p><p>“There she goes,” Pierce said.</p><p>Natasha stopped squirming. She frowned down at Steve. “Not good enough for me,” she said. She climbed off him, landing in the space between him and Pierce. “Hold me,” she told her husband. “Cradle me in arms.”</p><p>Steve shifted away and watched while Pierce spread his legs and pulled Natasha to rest between them, her back against his chest. She spread her legs, hitching them over Pierce’s thighs. She rested her arms above her head, her hands in Pierce’s hair. “Come now, little Omega,” she said, “move your mouth on me.”</p><p>Steve took a deep breath and crawled into position.</p><p>It took an hour, or maybe twice that, before Natasha was completely worn out from coming. She pushed at Steve’s shoulder, shoving him off her. He fell onto his back and rolled away. He wanted desperately to wash his face, to smell something else, to taste something different, anything other than Natasha. His lips and tongue were numb. He was exhausted. He heard Natasha and Pierce kissing behind him, then whispering good night. After several minutes, he heard familiar snoring. He turned and peeked over his shoulder. Both of them were sleeping, Natasha curled up into Pierce’s body, his arms around her shoulders.</p><p>Steve reached and shut off the bedside lamp, casting the room into almost perfect darkness. Tiny electronic lights from a charging cell phone, the digital clock, something else on the wall, lit up just enough that Steve could find the covers and pull them over himself. The jewel in his navel itched, so he worked at it with a fingernail until it popped free. He set it on the bedside table, tugged a pillow into a better position, and closed his eyes.</p><p>**</p><p>This time, the announcement was made with even less fanfare. Natasha simply sent Bucky a bouquet of flowers to his office in the White House basement with a congratulatory note. Then Steve started showing up in meetings in the Oval, kneeling on a pillow at Pierce’s feet, resting his head against Pierce’s knee when he got sleepy or bored. Occasionally, Pierce would pat Steve’s head or run his fingers through Steve’s hair. Mostly, he ignored the Omega and carried on as if Steve weren’t there.</p><p>The presence of a pregnant Omega, however, set the younger Alphas on edge. Bucky noticed an increase in the bickering between the younger staff members. Two Alpha interns even got into a fistfight in the hallway outside the Oval which had to be broken up by Secret Service. Pierce appeared to be unaffected, however. Whether that was because Steve belonged to him and he therefore had nothing to prove, or because he was simply too old to be affected by pheromones, Bucky would not hazard a guess.</p><p>About a week into this new normal, Steve got a larger floor pillow about four-foot square. It was thick and covered over in a soft-looking, light blue fabric. It sat behind and to the right of the president’s desk against the wall. Bucky saw him curled up more often than not, eyes closed and face perfectly smooth and untroubled. It was a good act.</p><p>They had been in a planning meeting already for a half hour when the call came through: imminent attack expected on Birmingham. Opposition forces had been spotted in Meridian and Tuscaloosa. Montgomery was about to fall. Coulson immediately got on his cellphone and demanded updates. Pierce scowled and began to curse. Next to Bucky, Rumlow sat back in his seat. He seemed to twitch with repressed energy.</p><p>Bucky caught Rumlow’s eye. “This is crazy shit, right?” he muttered.</p><p>“They shouldn’t have been allowed to get past the river,” Rumlow hissed back. “We should have nuked them already.”</p><p>Bucky couldn’t help his dismayed reaction to that. “They’re still American citizens. Misguided, yes, but we can’t just drop a nuke on Los Angeles.”</p><p>“Why the hell not? It’s not like those were ever loyal Americans out there. God-damned Hollywood elites and liberals.” Rumlow shook his head. “Every one of them should be taken out and shot.”</p><p>“Shot, maybe, but nuclear weapons? Think of the fallout. Literal fallout. We’re going to want to go back.” The other Alphas who had been in the meeting were standing up and moving away to focus on their cellphones and tablets to get more intel and confirmation on whatever was going on out there. Bucky saw Steve sit upright on his cushion, watching everything with huge eyes. Steve’s outfit that day was a bluish-green and it seemed to make him look like a water nymph. Or maybe that was just the hearts in Bucky’s eyes.</p><p>“Fuck that,” Rumlow said. “It’ll just blow out to sea. Can’t stand seafood anyway.” He smirked and then chuckled darkly.</p><p>Coulson started issuing orders in that no-nonsense, supremely competent way he had. He directed several aides to focus on specific issues of the upcoming attack, including evacuation of loyalist citizens, airdrops of supplies, and emergency troop movements to head off the opposition forces. Then Pierce announced he was going into the Situation Room and told everyone to come with him. He included Steve at the last minute, explaining Natasha would kill him if he didn’t.</p><p>They made an informal parade through the main offices, each Alpha on his cell, carrying on conversations with three or four others, Stevie struggling to carry his pillow. Bucky hung back enough to take the pillow from Steve long enough to wrangle it into a roll he could carry under his arm.</p><p>“I don’t know where we’re going,” Steve said, managing to keep up with the entourage now.</p><p>“The Situation Room,” Bucky explained. “It’s down this hall. It requires handprint access to get in, but you’re with us, so you’ll be fine.”</p><p>“We’re being attacked, I guess?” Steve said. “Should we be worried?”</p><p>“Us? No. You know where Alabama is, right? It’s far away.”</p><p>“No, I know that. I meant, are we losing?”</p><p>Bucky stopped short. They were in the hallway leading to the Situation Room. Pierce was inputting his security code on the keypad next to the door. “Never ever say that again,” Bucky said, leaning over Steve and whispering fast. “We are not losing. We made a strategic retreat after the futile attack on Vicksburg. We are regrouping and will come back stronger. Got it?”</p><p>Steve just stared at Bucky. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry.”</p><p>“Come on.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm and tugged him along. He caught the door before it closed and held it open so that Steve could go through. He spied an empty corner and pointed Steve toward it.</p><p>The Situation Room was a glorified conference room. There was a bank of monitors and computers against the far wall, a plain conference table in the center, and chairs for everyone. A coffeemaker and a small refrigerator stood on a counter on one side. The long wall opposite had been painted over to be a permanent white board. Diagrams of offensives and notes from meetings had been written across it in different colored markers. A list of war goals remained in the upper left corner. Nothing had ever been crossed off or removed to Bucky’s knowledge.</p><p>He’d been in this room before and knew there wasn’t any assigned seating, but that Pierce got the plushier chair at the end of the table. He ended up three chairs down, once again next to Rumlow. They nodded at each other as they flipped open secure laptops and began to review the raw data from the battlefields.</p><p>Tuscaloosa had fallen easily. Montgomery had isolated skirmishes in the suburbs, but the downtown district, including the capitol building and the Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church, had received some structural damage from bombs and fires. Casualty reports were being constantly updated but it looked like the US troops were being hurt or dying at a suspiciously lower rate than the FSA troops. At least, from what intelligence operatives could tell. Birmingham, however, was putting up more of a fight, forcing the US troops to battle street by street.</p><p>Aides brought in sandwiches, bowls of salads and stacks of cookies a couple hours later. Pierce and Coulson had their heads together with the head of the Joint Chiefs, pointing at a virtual map and making gestures. Ostensibly, Bucky and Rumlow were on hand to provide strategic alternatives and opinions, but as they hadn’t been given anything to consider, they didn’t really have anything to do.</p><p>Then Steve stood up and hovered next to Pierce. “Excuse me, sir,” Steve said, his voice breaking through the general hubbub. “Uh, President Pierce, sir, I need to step out, please?” He shifted on his feet in a telltale move.</p><p>Pierce looked disgusted, but Bucky saw his chance. He stood up. “I’ll take her, sir,” he said. “Won’t be long.” Pierce waved a hand in approval, and they stepped outside into the hall.</p><p>By comparison to the noise of the Situation Room, the hallway was relatively silent. As far as Bucky could tell, no one was around. However, there was a visible security camera up in the corner, so he simply led Steve toward the closest bathroom, who balked at the door.</p><p>“I can’t go in there,” Steve explained. “It’s the Alpha room. I’m not allowed into the Alpha room. It’s against the law.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Bucky muttered. “That’s right. Umm… the closest Beta bathroom is…” He tried to think. When the White House was retrofitted for indoor plumbing, the need for Beta bathrooms wasn’t as paramount as future generations required. There originally were Alpha bathrooms within a hundred paces of any position on the main office floor. When Betas started working there, just after the (first) Civil War, every third bathroom was changed over to accommodate them. Trouble was, those bathrooms were generally in the more inconvenient locations.</p><p>“I really need to go kind of soon,” Steve said, squirming slightly.</p><p>“I’m getting you there, don’t worry.” Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and guided him quickly in the most likely direction: toward the general office bullpens. When they found the Beta bathroom, Steve rushed forward and through the door before Bucky could even blink. He debated standing guard outside but, realizing his opportunity to get Steve alone, he followed after him.</p><p>The Beta bathroom was rather plush, Bucky realized. It had marble floors and a small chandelier in the exterior room, along with a red velvet couch and several mirrors. Beyond that was another door. As Bucky debated opening it, a Beta stepped through, saw Bucky, stopped short, then shook her head and hurried past. It did allow Bucky a view of three individual stalls, sinks, and the sight of Steve’s feet and sandals below one of the stall doors.</p><p>Bucky debated with himself again then entered the inner room. He pushed on the stall doors and discovered only two were occupied. He stood against a sink and waited. Someone flushed. It wasn’t Steve. A Beta stepped out of the stall and hesitated upon seeing Bucky.</p><p>“You can’t be in here,” she said. “This bathroom is for Betas only. I’ll call security.”</p><p>“I’m her bodyguard,” he replied, irritated. He watched as the Beta sniffed and then washed her hands in a snippy manner. Once she left, he followed her and then locked the exterior door. “We’re alone now,” he told Steve.</p><p>After a moment, he heard Steve flush, then watched as he came out and washed his hands. Bucky handed Steve a few paper towels, then tugged him back into the anteroom and onto the velvet couch. Once they were seated side-by-side, Bucky put his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in close. His hair smelled so good, Bucky thought.</p><p>“How are you feeling?”</p><p>Steve shrugged. “Same as before, really.” He rested his head against Bucky’s chest. “I miss you.”</p><p>“I’m trying to get Coulson to invite you for dinner again, but I’m not sure it’ll happen.”</p><p>“You think the First Lady’s going to prevent it? She didn’t even bring it up before.”</p><p>“I’m not sure she knew.”</p><p>Steve laughed. It was a miserable sound. “Is there no one in this place telling anyone else the truth about anything?”</p><p>“Hey, hey,” Bucky said. He turned to face Steve as much as he could. “I’m telling you all the truth I can.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure you are,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “There’s stuff you’re holding back. I can tell. Pierce wants Rumlow for the project because Rumlow’s got the track record, like you said. He’s a proven warrior, whatever that means. He’s a killer, I heard Pierce say more than once. The First Lady is pushing for you because you’re young and you’ve made a name for yourself already. Plus, she says you’ve got more charm and if we need to sell the product, she said, we need someone charming to do it. That’s what I heard the other night at the dinner with Dr. Schmidt.”</p><p>“Holy shit.” Bucky tried not to grip Steve’s shoulders too tightly. “Holy shit. They actually said it out loud like that? Wait, you met Schmidt?”</p><p>Steve nodded. “Yeah. The other night I was summoned to have dinner with the President, the First Lady and some scientists. They let me sit on a chair next to Pierce, which was odd, because I’ve never been allowed to sit on a chair by myself when he’s been in the room before.” He shrugged. “They talked about Germany, mostly, and Pierce talked about South America a lot. Travel stuff, really. Then they talked about Omegas.” Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly.</p><p>Bucky rubbed Steve’s shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “What’d they say?”</p><p>“Nothing specific,” Steve said, not quite meeting Bucky’s gaze. “Just about how Omegas are treated in Europe, how their clothes are more revealing.”</p><p>“<em>More</em> revealing?” Bucky’s mind reeled. Steve practically wore nothing as it was.</p><p>Steve nodded. “They don’t really wear the pantaloons anymore.” His slender fingers plucked at the thin fabric of his loose leggings. “And they don’t really wear much around their, um, areas.” He gestured vaguely toward his crotch and then his breasts.</p><p>“I hadn’t realized,” Bucky said. European Omega fashion wasn’t anything he had time for these days.</p><p>“There was a lot of talk about bringing those fashions here,” Steve went on. “Schmidt thinks I’d make a good model for European fashion. He thinks I could be a trend-setter.” He smirked self-deprecatingly. “As if.”</p><p>“Well, I think you’re beautiful.”</p><p>Steve turned his smirk toward Bucky. “Thanks.”</p><p>“Did they discuss anything else?”</p><p>“Right,” Steve said. “They did. Schmidt said a decision has to be made soon if Pierce wants the project completed on time or something. I didn’t understand it fully. Isn’t it a weapon? They weren’t talking like it was a weapon.”</p><p>“It’s non-traditional,” Bucky said automatically. “It’s more of a process. And Pierce wants Rumlow because he’s a killer…” He thought quickly. Rumlow was a killer, but Bucky had salesmanship. If they sold the serum, would they earn more money than by winning the war? That didn’t make sense – losing wars meant losing money. At least, in the short-term. Maybe he was counting on loans to rebuild. But if they sold the serum, there was no controlling it after the fact. Anyone could get it and anyone would. It would be like nuclear weaponry. Once the atom was cracked open the first time, everyone started cracking it open. So, if everyone had access to the serum, where was the profit?</p><p>“A process,” Steve said slowly. “A weapon that’s more of a process. That you or Rumlow would both be good candidates for.” He looked suspicious. “Is this a process you’re <em>going</em> through? Is this something being done <em>to</em> you? Is that… is it… is this a <em>potion?</em>”</p><p>That question shocked Bucky’s thoughts out of their death spiral into futility. “A potion? What? Where’d you hear that?”</p><p>Steve’s eyes narrowed like he could read Bucky’s thoughts and found them disturbing. “That night at dinner. The First Lady said it like that and then Dr. Zola said it wasn’t some ‘stupid magic potion,’ but that it was a miracle serum.”</p><p>Bucky knew the truth was written all over his face. And he’d been such a good liar at one time, too!</p><p>“That’s what this is? A serum?”</p><p>“Keep your voice down,” Bucky said. He took Steve’s hands in his. “You can’t breathe another word of this. Not another word, do you hear me? It’s not worth your life.” He laid his palm against Steve’s abdomen, cool and soft against the blue-green of the bandeau and panty. “It’s not worth this life.”</p><p>Steve took a deep breath and pressed his own hands against Bucky’s. His eyes implored him. “What does this serum even do? Is it even safe?”</p><p>“Perfectly safe.”</p><p>Steve stared hard at him, then shook his head, dismissing him. “You’re such a bad liar. You don’t know if it’s safe.”</p><p>He shrugged. “Most of the lab rats survived.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” His eyes bugged out. “I was joking! Only ‘most’ of the lab rats…? Holy Jesus, Bucky. Those are not good odds. Let Rumlow do it.”</p><p>Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve. “I can’t. It could be worth everything. It could be the end of the war.”</p><p>Then Steve’s expression turned serious again, somber. “You mean it, don’t you. The end of the war. We’re that close to it.”</p><p>He took a deep breath. “I think so. I know that they keep revising the timetable with every defeat –“</p><p>“Strategic retreat,” Steve corrected him.</p><p>“Right. With every strategic retreat,” Bucky repeated, “they keep cutting more corners, making more assumptions.”</p><p>“Who is ‘they’?”</p><p>“The scientists. There are others besides Schmidt. Zola, Killian and Sterns.”</p><p>“World’s worst law firm.”</p><p>Bucky had to smile. Steve’s snarky little comments somehow soothed the rougher edges of his burdened soul. “Yeah. They’re something special.”</p><p>“So they’re panicking. Or they’re being made to panic because,” here Steve jerked his head meaningfully in the exact direction of the Situation Room, “is panicking. Because he’s strategically retreating all over the place.”</p><p>“Basically. Only I can’t decide if he’s trying to sell the formula itself or if he really wants to win the war.” He was about to start brainstorming again when Steve pulled back and looked at him.</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “He wants to crush his enemies and then rent out the soldiers.” He shrugged. “Outsource them to other governments. Get together a-a strike team. Control the rest of the world with fear because he has control of an elite group of, well, super-soldiers, for lack of a better term.”</p><p>Bucky stared at him. Horror flooded his system as he realized Steve was probably right. “Uh…”</p><p>“Come on, Bucky,” Steve said gently. “They’d never stop at just one. Would they?” It wasn’t really a question.</p><p>Bucky had just gathered Steve into his arms in an effort to shield him from everything – all the danger, the intrigue, the mad scientists and the crazy dictators – when someone started banging on the door and shouting that she needed to use the toilet and she wasn’t about to walk halfway across the building just to pee.</p><p>They were back in the Situation Room in three minutes.</p><p>**</p><p>Steve smelled oranges. Cleanser? Juice? He opened his eyes and saw a pair of clementines on the cushion in front of him. He grinned and felt warm inside. Bucky was looking out for him. He pushed himself upright and realized he’d been covered with a heavy olive drab jacket. He grinned and pulled the jacket into his lap to smooth his hand over the lapel. He ran his fingers across the fabric to the shiny metal nameplate.</p><p>
  <strong>RUMLOW</strong>
</p><p>Startled, Steve looked up. The room was quieter than it had been before, with fewer people but all of them sitting at the bank of computer stations with headsets and serious expressions. And then, sitting in the plushier chair at the end of the table, casually clicking away on his laptop keyboard, was Rumlow. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and his collar unbuttoned. Bucky wasn’t there at all. And neither was Pierce.</p><p>He didn’t want to be alarmed, so he focused on peeling one of the clementines and slurping down each wedge. The flavor exploded on his tongue and he eagerly started peeling the second one, too.</p><p>“Thought you might like them.” Rumlow’s voice was oddly soft.</p><p>“These are from you?” He held up an orange wedge.</p><p>Rumlow nodded. “Yeah. Thought you might… my older sister ate them all the time when she was pregnant with her kids. Said they had folic acid or something that was supposed to be good for babies.”</p><p>Good for babies? Older sister? “Thank you. That was thoughtful.” And completely out of character, Steve thought. He wondered if there were going to be a catch. Why had he been left alone in the Situation Room?</p><p>“It’s good you got some sleep,” Rumlow continued. He closed his laptop. “I was going to give you another half hour or so then wake you up myself.”</p><p>Steve nodded. “Uh… where is everyone?” He folded up Rumlow’s jacket into a loose square and laid it next to him.</p><p>“You mean Pierce?”</p><p>“Sure. Yes.”</p><p>Rumlow smirked and stood up. “The president had to have dinner with some senators. The First Lady was most insistent he attend and that you not be left alone. She also insisted you be allowed to sleep.”</p><p>Steve wanted to ask about Bucky but knew he couldn’t risk it. “Is he coming back?”</p><p>“Who knows,” he said. “I doubt it. Not tonight.” He pushed his chair up to the table and moved to stand above Steve.</p><p>Steve lifted up the jacket. “Thank you for this…?”</p><p>Rumlow shoved his jacket under his arm. “Welcome,” he said with a grunt. After a moment, he glanced away and said, “You looked cold.”</p><p>He didn’t seem inclined to say anything more. Steve glanced around the room. Everyone looked as busy as ever, but the mania felt tamped down a lot. “How did the battle go?” he asked. He aimed an innocent, naïve look up at Rumlow.</p><p>A muscle jumped in Rumlow’s cheek, the only sign Steve had ever seen that Rumlow was stressed. “We lost Montgomery. The enemy is going to be in Atlanta in less than a week, guaranteed.”</p><p>Steve gulped and kept looking up at Rumlow through widened eyes. “Another strategic retreat?”</p><p>Rumlow looked down at Steve and his expression softened. “Yeah. Another one. Come on. I’m supposed to take you back to your room. Let’s go.”</p><p>He scrambled to his feet, then bent to wrestle the pillow into submission while still cupping the orange peels in his hand. The pillow was winning when Rumlow put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll get that. Jeez.” In seconds, Rumlow had folded his jacket over his arm and rolled the pillow into a tube. “Let’s go.”</p><p>“Oh,” Steve said. “Can I get some water?” He dropped the orange peels into the overfull trash can by the coffee maker. He didn’t see any bottled water anywhere and the only carafe with water in it also had a floating bug.</p><p>“Sure,” Rumlow said. He stared at the carafe, then grimaced. “We’ll check the other coffee bar.” He held open the door for Steve then led the way back toward the Oval Office.</p><p>The larger, and therefore better, coffee bar was tucked up next to the president’s admin office. It had the fancier coffee maker, the refrigerator with the name-brand creamer, the wider selection of beans. Rumlow pointed toward it and let Steve go on and retrieve whatever he liked.</p><p>There were two people waiting for the coffee to finish filling the carafe. Deep in conversation, they moved only a step or so away from the counter to allow Steve access.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” the Beta whispered. “They’re fighting with <em>arrows</em> now?”</p><p>“That’s what’s on the report,” the Alpha hissed back. “Over 80% of our snipers and guards were taken out by motherfucking arrows. Hand to God. I’ve seen pictures. Arrows. They’ve been reduced to fighting with arrows.”</p><p>“Then… how? How are they <em>winning?</em>”</p><p>Steve stuffed three bottles of water in his arms, two more of apple juice, and tucked a candy bar inside his bandeau. He hurried back to Rumlow who barely lifted an eyebrow as he asked, “Need me to carry anything else for you?”</p><p>Steve shook his head.</p><p>“Come on, then.” Rumlow led the way through the admin room to the stairs. If Steve had thought Rumlow didn’t know the back way into Steve’s room, he was proven wrong. Rumlow led him easily down the narrow service hall, then flipped the light switch just inside the door. “You going to be okay now?”</p><p>Steve pushed past Rumlow and dropped everything on his bed. “Yes. Thank you.” Then, because Steve couldn’t always leave things alone, he asked, “Uh… why… are you doing this…? Why are you doing this?” He turned and rested his butt against his bed.</p><p>Rumlow handed him his floor pillow, then re-draped his jacket over his arm. He looked exhausted. “Told you. My older sister. I remember my brother-in-law saying she needed more sleep than she was getting, needed more everything than she was getting. She, uh, she lost the first one, too.” He looked Steve in the eye. “She was devastated. They both were. He took extra care of her after. It was, uh, it was nice.”</p><p>Steve nodded slowly. “And that second one… it went okay?”</p><p>“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Rumlow said with a small laugh. “They’ve got four kids, nine grand-kids. I’m just good ol’ Uncle Brock.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Anyway, you’re good here, right? I can go now?”</p><p>“Of course. Thank you for seeing me… here.” Steve smiled, awkwardly aware he had been about to say ‘home.’</p><p>Rumlow side-eyed him, then nodded again. “Get some sleep. You need more of it than you think.”</p><p>Steve waited until he could no longer hear Rumlow’s footsteps before closing the door tight. “What the fuck,” he muttered. “What. The. Fuck.”</p><p>**</p><p>The next several days were a whirlwind. Pierce, and by extension Steve, was at the center of it all. True to Rumlow’s prediction, the US army had pushed steadily through Alabama and into Georgia using I-85 and I-20 to pinch toward Atlanta. There’d been some resistance in the larger towns in between, mostly from local militias in Carrollton and Newnan. Pierce had been confident the ‘local boys’ could handle a few ‘bows and arrows’ and ‘flying robots.’ Instead, once the first few buildings were torched, the militias cleared out or were captured by a small commando unit led by an individual the FS code-named ‘Robin Hood.’ In three days, Atlanta was surrounded, cut off from all access. The US army had used the infamous I-285 beltway to block all supplies and reinforcements to the city.</p><p>Pierce was furious.</p><p>From his place on his floor pillow, Steve had a front-row seat to Pierce’s consuming rage. More than one aide had fled the Oval Office with blood on his face or clothes from one of Pierce’s well-aimed water glasses, sharpened letter opener or, in one particularly memorable display, a smaller bronze sculpture by Remington of a cowboy riding a horse. Typically, once he’d vented his fury, he would pull Steve onto his lap and stroke the exposed skin of Steve’s arm, back, ass. More than once during the Siege of Atlanta Steve would find himself wrapped up in Pierce’s arms being rocked back and forth as the Alpha dug his nose into Steve’s neck.</p><p>Then Atlanta fell.</p><p>They watched from the Situation Room as the FS army, along with assorted militias, formed a front line on Stone Mountain, utilizing hiding spots, lookout posts and sniper nests from 150 years before. Loyal civilians from the surrounding areas, having fled ahead of the invading army, jammed every highway and back road possible in all directions except west. Steve wondered how the army and militia had gotten through the traffic, why the roads hadn’t been kept clear or at least one lane set aside for military use, but of course, no one cared what he had to say about anything. He just watched the fallout from the safety of his pillow on the linoleum flooring of the Situation Room and waited for the US to make their move.</p><p>The US forces did not immediately advance, however.</p><p>“What are they waiting for?” Pierce asked on the fourth morning after the fall of Atlanta. They’d barely left the Situation Room except to relieve themselves, Pierce being sure to keep Steve within arm’s reach even then. The Surgeon General had come in at least six times to inject Pierce with some vitamin cocktail designed to keep him awake and alert throughout the crisis. Pierce’s valet had been in a few times with an electric razor to take off the beginnings of his beard, frosty white across his upper lip. The others might be living off coffee and energy pills, or they might be getting injections, too. All Steve knew was he was exempt due to his condition, but wasn’t permitted to leave Pierce’s side, either. He ended up passing out on his pillow every eight hours or so.</p><p>Pierce kept asking his unanswerable questions. “Why aren’t they moving on? Pressing their advantage?”</p><p>“Maybe they’re waiting for something?” Bucky suggested. “Maybe they’re over-extended. They have supply lines, too.” He looked rough, his beard threatening to fill in across his cheeks. He needed a shave, a haircut, and at least twelve hours in a comfortable bed. Preferably, Steve thought idly, with Steve beside him.</p><p>“That’s certainly a possibility,” Coulson replied. “We have reports of a resurgence of militias in Mississippi and Arkansas. They may be interfering with resupply efforts.”</p><p>“God-damned racist fucks have been nothing but a disappointment!” Pierce shouted. He stood abruptly, took a cold breakfast sandwich in his hand and flung it at one of the admirals. The bread burst upon impact allowing the ham to flop wetly onto the admiral’s laptop. The admiral did not move. “They were supposed to be well-trained! Seasoned! Waiting for this opportunity! This was their moment to shine and they’re falling apart! Don’t tell me they <em>might</em> be doing something when they’re clearly <em>fucking it all up!</em>”</p><p>Steve was getting used to Pierce’s rants but it was putting some of the lower-level aides and staff members on edge. More than one had accidentally spilled coffee on the counter, their desks, their selves when Pierce spoke up, moved near them or, in one scary moment, laughed. The laughter was so disturbing it woke Steve up from a half-sleep, but he didn’t dare ask for the cause. He just rolled over and closed his eyes again.</p><p>Natasha was never far away for long. She had found her way into the Situation Room on the second day and immediately taken charge. She had barked questions and demanded responses before anyone had a chance to blink. She frequently questioned the integrity and loyalty of Pierce’s advisors, pointing out to Pierce how this one had moved his money to the Caymans or that one had a Canadian passport. “They are all against you,” she told Pierce as they watched a report from a teenage militia fighter calling in from the summit of Stone Mountain on the third day. “You’d be winning this war if they were true patriots. I know how to deal with disloyalty,” she hissed. “Just say word.”</p><p>“I can trust my own men,” Pierce replied.</p><p>“More than you can trust me?” she asked, arranging herself next to him on the edge of the table. She was wearing a dark red pantsuit, almost the color of blood. Her hair fell in thick red waves around her perfectly made-up face. She leaned toward Pierce, her expression confident and intimate, and they kissed with noisy tongues.</p><p>As usual, Steve had felt like an intruder watching them, but he was fascinated by them all the same. He couldn’t think when anyone had gotten Pierce to actually sleep. He looked more and more haggard as the hours wore on. It made the contrast between him and Natasha even more striking. He seemed to be aging in front of Steve’s eyes while Natasha just looked more and more rested and beautiful.</p><p>For a wild moment, Steve wondered if she were somehow sucking the life force out of Pierce. When he realized he was actively considering the possibility, he thought maybe the jacked-up schedule was getting to him, too. Maybe he was starting to hallucinate. What day was it anymore? Did time even matter? Then he saw the broken crockery in the wastebasket and decided he probably wasn’t making most of it up. He probably just needed a decent eight hours or so, himself.</p><p>That wasn’t happening any time soon, however. That whole week he kept getting woken up and dragged along with Pierce to different rooms in the White House for meetings with different ambassadors and congresspersons and senators. A few of them stood out to Steve. The ambassador from Wakanda, for instance. Nakia Something-or-Other of the Something-Something-Tribe (Steve hadn’t been prepared for her melodious accent) had deep concerns for the Wakandan outreach center in Atlanta. She wanted to know if the center could be designated a Red Cross shelter or should the Wakandans secure the location themselves? Apparently, the surrounding area had been hard hit by shelling.</p><p>After that, Ambassador Carter had been summoned to explain why the UK was denying emergency aid. Pierce wanted to make it clear to Carter that he could expel the entire diplomatic team if he wanted.</p><p>Carter replied that he had every right to do so.</p><p>Pierce demanded England live up to its longstanding special relationship with the US.</p><p>Carter replied that Pierce wasn’t president of the US anymore, not since he’d renamed the country.</p><p>Pierce explained that the elections had to be postponed. There was fraud. There were counting errors. People didn’t vote on election day. Only the election day votes should be counted. He’d won by a landslide before and the Democrats were just trying to overturn the results of that election.</p><p>Carter merely held up her manicured hand and said, “I understand, and I completely empathize with your position, Mr. President, however, I am facing a great deal of pushback from London. The Prime Minister, who is absolutely on your side, is facing a challenge from within his own party. It’s forcing him to attend to internal matters. Politics are a delicate balance. I’m sure you can relate.”</p><p>Eyes blazing, Pierce could only stare as Carter smiled politely and asked, “If there’s nothing else, Mr. President?”</p><p>The US’s strategy became clearer at the end of that week of waiting. Since the FS had ceded control of the city and removed its forces to Stone Mountain and the hills north of Atlanta, the US merely had to follow the example of the brilliant tactician General Sherman and march to the Atlantic to hamstring the FS defenses. Why did they wait? Bucky theorized there were only two robot soldiers. Maybe they had to be repaired? Or refueled?</p><p>In any event, a week after Atlanta fell, one of the flying robots finally appeared in the sky above Stone Mountain. Barely visible against a moonless night sky, the metal suit of armor circled the mountain twice, attracting the attention of every militia member camped there, then shot lasers and armor-piercing rounds against the bas relief sculpture of Confederate President Jefferson Davis, General Robert E. Lee, and General ‘Stonewall’ Jackson, rendering the figures indistinguishable. Most of the militia witnesses screamed in terror, threw down their weapons and fled. Only a dozen or so attempted to fire back at the robot, who barely seemed to need to aim in order to take them out instead.</p><p>By dawn, two robot soldiers appeared in the skies. One was painted red and gold, the other a steel grey. They flew to the coast in tandem, firing upon entrenched militias and FS army camps. They took out less than five civilian targets between them. They softened up the resistance so that the US army only had to mop up as they crossed the state to the sea.</p><p>And that’s when Pierce realized that he’d lost everything south of I-20 back to the US. The whole chunk of land between that interstate and I-4 in Florida was overrun with US forces and surrendered in sixteen hours.</p><p>Pierce was apoplectic.</p><p>Natasha came into the Oval Office with the doctor and Bucky. Rumlow had been in the room with Pierce when he’d gotten the news of the surrender. He’d received the brunt of Pierce’s dissatisfaction when Pierce attacked him with a ballpoint pen and was bleeding from a deep defensive scratch across his palm. Steve had been cringing behind the desk, hoping against hope his luck would hold out and Pierce wouldn’t attack him next.</p><p>Several things happened at once. Bucky came around the desk and pulled Steve into his arms. Rumlow grabbed Pierce around the shoulders. Natasha shouted in Russian and the doctor jabbed something into Pierce’s thigh. Thankfully, it acted quickly and Pierce slumped to the carpet. He was out cold a minute later.</p><p>On Natasha’s orders, Rumlow and Bucky carried Pierce upstairs to his room while Natasha and Steve followed behind. The Alphas returned to keep tabs on the battle progress. Natasha loosened Pierce’s clothing and ordered Steve to help her remove the rest of it. They got down to Pierce’s underpants and, without saying a word, left them on.</p><p>“Get undressed and get in,” she said. “He’ll sleep easier with you there. You know this.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” Steve peeled off his garb and crawled into the bed. It was the most comfortable he’d been in over a week. He was asleep before Natasha said another word.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Why We Fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The invasion progresses. Pierce devolves. Steve's just along for the ride. Oh - and Bucky makes a speech.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky won the Rock-Paper-Scissors against Rumlow (best 2 out of 3; Rumlow always threw ‘rock’), so he got to go in and wake up the president. And maybe peek in on the First Family’s Omega, which was what he really wanted. Normally, it would have been Pierce’s valet’s task, but he’d refused on account of Pierce threatening him with a straight razor the next time he urged the president to get some rest. It fell to either Bucky or Rumlow, seeing as how neither of them were actively involved in prosecuting the war unless the president gave orders himself, and Bucky won.</p>
<p>He crept into the dark room, not knowing what he might find. He saw a large, single lump in the center of the bed, a shadowy mountain of blankets. He reached out toward what he expected to be a shoulder. It was thick, bony. He jostled gently.</p>
<p>“Sir? It’s time to wake up now. Sir?”</p>
<p>He watched as the lump started to move in an unexpected way. There was a small amount of illumination from the tiny lights on the TV router and DVD player. It was enough to help Bucky navigate the path to the window so he could pull open the heavy drape. He turned back to the bed and realized Pierce wasn’t alone. Bucky felt his heart twist as he realized Steve was lying next to Pierce.</p>
<p>Bucky swallowed his feelings and leaned back over the mattress. He jostled Pierce’s shoulder again. “Sir? It’s time to wake up. Sir?”</p>
<p>Steve’s golden blond hair shone in the morning light. His face, scrunched up in protest, was adorable, familiar and so dear to Bucky, even with Pierce lying right there, too.</p>
<p>“What time is it?” Steve mumbled, or so Bucky thought.</p>
<p>“Just about eight.”</p>
<p>Steve stared back at him, clearly puzzled. “At night?” He looked toward the window.</p>
<p>Bucky shook his head. “Morning.</p>
<p>Steve stared. “…what?”</p>
<p>“You’ve been asleep for almost eighteen hours. Is he all right?”</p>
<p>Bucky jostled Pierce’s arm again just as the Alpha himself grunted, “Uhn.” Pierce rolled onto his back. Steve moved away from Pierce and Bucky realized Steve was naked. So was Pierce. At least, he mentally clarified, they weren’t wearing shirts. Not that Steve was allowed to wear a shirt. Not really.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Pierce asked, frowning at the ceiling. His eyes moved from Steve to Bucky. “What is it? What’s happened?”</p>
<p>“You’ve been asleep, sir,” Bucky said, falling on formality and taking a step back. “It’s time to get up now.”</p>
<p>Slowly, Pierce sat up, the covers bunching up across his hips. He turned to put his bare feet on the floor. Bucky moved to the side, ready to help Pierce stand up, if necessary, fully prepared to not react if the president were naked. There was every chance he was naked. Why shouldn’t he sleep naked if he wanted to? Why was Bucky thinking about naked Pierce?</p>
<p>Pierce, meanwhile, was flattening his hair and staring blearily toward the window. In the morning light, he looked every day of his 76+ years. His skin was dry, chapped in places, sagging in others. His chin reflected a lot of light, and Bucky realized it was because Pierce’s stubble was almost completely white. Pierce stretched his arms and cracked his back with a sigh. “How’s the fighting going?” he asked. “Where are we with that?”</p>
<p>“Sir,” Bucky said, automatically assuming parade rest, “the invaders have almost reached Savannah via I-16. They did get stopped on I-20 near Augusta. Our forces are holding the city. There’s an Alpha there who organized the various militias into a credible defense.”</p>
<p>“Good, good,” Pierce said with a nod. “Invite him to the White House. Give him some award or something. Some recognition. You military types like your medals, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Well, sir,” Bucky hesitated. He glanced over Pierce’s shoulder at Steve. He certainly didn’t. Get a medal for just doing his job? For making sure more of their guys died than your guys? For killing more efficiently? Medals made it worse, almost. When he had talked about it with other soldiers, he’d been relieved to realize his opinion of recognition for military actions was shared by most. Even Rumlow had expressed less-than-enthusiastic levels of pride over his medals.</p>
<p>“You saying you don’t?” Pierce scoffed. “You people give enough of them.”</p>
<p>Bucky looked down at the floor. “Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>Pierce got to his feet. He looked diminished, standing there in his wrinkled underpants, his skin dry and sagging around the elbows and knees, his chest deflated, his prowess dissipating like smoke. Bucky stood respectfully as Pierce slowly staggered toward the bathroom. “Where’s that god-damned doctor?” he growled. “Ibuprofen’s not going to cut it today.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Bucky said. “I’ll call him.”</p>
<p>Pierce paused at the bathroom door. “He should have been here already. He should be here with the shot and the vitamins. He knows what I mean. Get him here, Colonel. And get that TV on. I need to know what they’re saying about me.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. Immediately, sir.” Bucky grabbed the remote control. In a moment, the TV had turned on to a commercial. He waited for Pierce to push the bathroom door mostly shut before tossing the remote onto the bedside table and placing a knee on the mattress. He leaned close to Steve and said, “How are you? Are you all right?”</p>
<p>Steve sat up enough to lean against the pillows. He held a sheet up to his collarbone, protecting his modesty in a rather coquettish way. “I’m fine,” he said. “He’s just been creepy. You’ve seen him.” He yawned and scratched at his jaw.</p>
<p>“It’s just been that?” Bucky searched Steve’s face for deception. He didn’t see bruising or cuts, nor any sign that Steve hadn’t just been sleeping beside Pierce the whole time. He quickly rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth to hide a quick sniff, but didn’t smell sex in the room, either. Maybe they just slept. Not that he could do anything about Pierce fucking his own Omega. Bucky had no rights in that regard at all.</p>
<p>Steve shrugged. “My ma said it happens to older folks. Alphas especially. They get anxious and find Omegas comforting. I think he’s just stressed out right now.”</p>
<p>“And he’s using you to keep himself calm.” Of course, Pierce was using Steve’s pheromones like a drug. Everyone had seen Pierce getting injections from the doctor, though Natasha insisted they were only vitamin shots, and everyone had seen Pierce’s state of mind devolve as the US forces steadily pushed back against the FS army and the citizen militias. It wasn’t surprising to think that Pierce was trying to use Omega pheromones to keep himself feeling strong and vital. It was just a bit unseemly to do so in front of people.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I guess it’s good I’m here to keep him from really freaking out.” Steve smirked. “Can you imagine what he’d do if he <em>really</em> lost it?”</p>
<p>Bucky gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. What would we do then?” He mentally ran through several contingencies, including shooting the president himself, if necessary, then submitting to the Secret Service’s immediate retributive justice.</p>
<p>They exchanged soft smiles, then Steve nudged Bucky. “You should call the doctor before he realizes you haven’t.”</p>
<p>“Right. I need to do that.” Bucky let his head hang, then looked up at Steve through his eyelashes. It was a flirty, seductive look that had worked on most of the people he’d slept with. It seemed to work on Steve, too, because he smiled softly and his shoulders relaxed.</p>
<p>Bucky used the internal extension on the landline to summon the doctor. The commercials had ended on the TV and the perky blond presenter caught his attention.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Once again we go live to Chattanooga for our continuing coverage of the massive evacuation of citizens in the face of overwhelming enemy forces. Dale Palmer is there on the scene. Dale?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Thanks, Jill. What you see behind me are the terrified families of loyal Americans fleeing cruel invaders. Now, as you can see, traffic is mostly stopped along here, so we’ve been able to talk to a few people and get a sense of what they’re really feeling.”</em>
</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p><em>Cut to: </em>White Alpha driving an SUV. Beta in front seat. Female-presenting children in the far back, two teenage Alphas in the middle seat leaning forward to look into the camera, an Omega between them looking curious. “I wanted to stay and fight, but my wife, she’s scared. Our Omega’s fixing to have twins and the invaders are saying how our Omegas are enslaved by the system so they’re going to abort all the Omega babies on account of they’re rape babies. I can’t have that. Those are my kids, too.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Who told you that, that the invaders are going to abort all the Omega babies?”</em>
</p>
<p>“President Pierce did.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“And you support our president?”</em>
</p>
<p>“Of course, I do,” the Alpha replied, looking directly into the camera. “He’s always had my vote. My household’s vote, I mean. My oldest is coming up on eighteen next year. I look forward to being able to cast three votes for Pierce in the next election.”</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p><em>Cut to: </em>White Beta driving a Ford Explorer with a hybrid engine. A teenage Alpha is in the front seat biting his fingernail. “My Alpha’s in the army somewhere. They won’t tell me, but last I heard he was along the Mississippi. I can only hope he’s still able to fight for his country, to fight for Pierce and what’s right! Make America strong again, that’s what we say.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“See you’re driving a hybrid. How’s that working out for you?”</em>
</p>
<p>“I’m not made of money. Gas is expensive. This helps me save something for my kids. I’ve got two Omegas and my Mom. It’s not like they can work. Not anything respectable. Nothing that’ll bring in any cash. And this one wants to go into the Army like his father. I just want him to stay home with me. Not get hurt, you know? He’s the only thing I have to rely on anymore.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“And where’s home for you?”</em>
</p>
<p>“Cartersville.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Why’d you leave?”</em>
</p>
<p>“They was swarming all over, going house to house, we heard. It’s been on all the news. And they got those crazy robots. I mean, now I haven’t seen any with my own eyes, but my cousin in Rome? Well, she was in Carrollton visiting her in-laws when the refugees from ‘bama came on through. They was all talking about flying robots with lasers. Got some pictures, too. I seen them.” She looks up at the camera and glances away. “I mean, like drawings. Kid stuff. You know. Fairy tales.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“We’ll let you get on your way.”</em>
</p>
<p>“Ain’t nowhere to go. Everyone’s leaving. It’s all stopped up.”</p>
<p>The camera pans to the back seat to show an elderly female with a firm jaw staring resolutely forward. Beside her are two female children looking somber and tired.</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p><em>Cut to: </em>Elderly white Alpha driving a Chevrolet Silverado. Elderly white female beside him holding a small black dog. Behind them are four females clutching tote bags stuffed full of clothing. “We’re just trying to get these Omegas to safety. We got nothing the invaders are wanting. We’d have been fine.”</p>
<p>The elderly female leans across to say, “I’d’ve just offered whoever came to my door some sweet tea and biscuit. Everyone appreciates a little southern hospitality.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“You don’t think the Omegas would be safe at your home?”</em>
</p>
<p>The Alpha looks thoughtful. “Maybe, but that’s not what they’re saying. They’re saying they’re looking for Omegas, looking to take them away, rape them and keep them for themselves. Everyone knows they don’t have the population we do. They can’t sustain this war forever. They’re running out of Alphas to send to fight.”</p>
<p>The elderly female laughs. “They’re letting Betas fight, too, you dope. And some Omegas. And why shouldn’t they? It’s the female of the species you have to watch out for.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Where’d you hear that? About them letting Betas and Omegas fight?”</em>
</p>
<p>“Oh, nothing. Nowhere.” The elderly woman shrinks back in her seat. “I’m just an old woman. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”</p>
<p>The Alpha leans out of his vehicle window. “They’re all saying it, but no one’s saying it, you get me? Just like no one’s talking about the robots in the sky or the green monster what tore up Carrollton. And if the invaders really are using bows and arrows to fight, how the hell could they have forced the greatest fighting force the world has ever known into retreat? They couldn’t. So it’s all lies.”</p>
<p>~~</p>
<p>The doctor said he’d be ten minutes. Bucky hung up the phone and smiled at Steve. The bathroom door was open, and he could hear Pierce getting into his shower. Steam started fogging up what he could see of the bathroom mirror. Steve was still leaning against the headboard, sheet pulled up, looking beautiful and scared and brave.</p>
<p>“How are you doing, Steve,” Bucky asked. “Honestly.”</p>
<p>Steve closed his eyes. “You think I can be honest? In this place? The biggest lies of my life are told here.”</p>
<p>Bucky took a deep breath. “I am sorry for that. If I could go back in time and change things, I would.”</p>
<p>“Nah. It probably has to happen this way. We get to live through the interesting times so that our children can live through peaceful ones. Isn’t that how it goes?”</p>
<p>“Our children?” Bucky murmured. “Sounds nice.”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes flew open as he realized what he’d said. Rather than take it back, or claim he meant to refer to everyone’s children, he just flushed a gentle pink and looked resolute. “There could be our children.” He rested his hand across his abdomen. “You don’t know.”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t suppose I do.” Steve could be carrying his child. Or it could be Pierce’s. It could even be Rumlow’s. No one would know for sure, or might ever know, not without a blood test and why would Pierce agree to that? If the child were an Alpha, that is. If it were Beta or Omega, all bets were off. There was more than one way to compare Pierce to Henry VIII, after all.</p>
<p>But it didn’t matter. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Either Bucky would complete his mission or he wouldn’t. If he failed, he’d be dead. If he succeeded, if he succeeded entirely, he’d be safe and Steve would be… elsewhere. Maybe not even <em>be</em>. He fought back the familiar low-level panic at the idea of Steve being unsafe, of Steve not <em>being</em>.</p>
<p>“How’s your mission going, by the way?”</p>
<p>Steve’s question broke into Bucky’s thoughts and he latched onto it with a grim sort of delight. “Things are progressing. A bit faster than perhaps is best, but…” He shrugged. “It’s not really up to me.”</p>
<p>“Faster than is best? What’s happened? Is it the war?” Steve shifted on the bed.</p>
<p>How to explain that Pierce’s manic outbursts were not indifferent to Schmidt’s rages? That he and Rumlow were being asked to perform every test possible, from setting baseline skill levels to intelligence tests and extremely personal questionnaires about everything from masturbation to sports teams to memories of childhood? That everyone in that lab was suffering under Schmidt’s demands, that they were running around the clock and getting no recognition of their collective sacrifice? That he was going from Pierce’s ravings in the Situation Room to Schmidt’s shouted lectures in the laboratory? That he and Rumlow had actually had a moment, an actual human moment of connection, not twelve hours ago when they left the lab and realized they didn’t have to go report to Pierce because Pierce was still sleeping? And Rumlow had asked if maybe this was their chance to escape and Bucky had replied ‘why would we do that and risk missing out on all the free health care?’ and Rumlow had shot back with ‘who knew that how a guy jacked off would be so critical to the war effort?’ and they had laughed hysterically in the service tunnel, leaning on each other until tears were streaming down their cheeks and they couldn’t breathe? How to explain any of that?</p>
<p>“There’s just a lot going on right now.” An understatement. “I shouldn’t really get into it.” He glanced pointedly at the open bathroom door. Steam was starting to billow into the bedroom.</p>
<p>“This serum,” Steve began, his voice low, “is it going to be safe?”</p>
<p>Bucky shrugged. How could he answer that? Was it ever going to be remotely safe?</p>
<p>“I’m going to say this again, Bucky. Maybe you should let Rumlow have it.”</p>
<p>He stared at Steve. “I can’t even entertain that idea.”</p>
<p>Steve got up onto his knees, still clutching the sheet to his chest even though Bucky got a flash of his bare hip. “Maybe you should. Just let Rumlow get it. If the serum isn’t safe, then it isn’t safe for you. If it’s going to harm the person who gets it, let it harm Rumlow.”</p>
<p>“You can’t protect me from this,” Bucky said, feeling strangely irritated by Steve’s concern. “This is my mission.”</p>
<p>“Screw the mission,” Steve hissed back. “Your life is important, too.”</p>
<p>“My mission is everything, why don’t you see that?”</p>
<p>Steve opened his mouth to respond, then sat back on his heels. He looked at Bucky, his narrowed eyes moving from Bucky’s neatly coiffed hair to his freshly shined shoes. “Huh. Maybe you’re stringing me along, getting me to fuck up. Maybe you’re not a spy. Maybe you are a true patriot after all.”</p>
<p>“What’s that mean?”</p>
<p>He shrugged diffidently. “Maybe you want the serum for yourself for the glory of the FSA. You want to be the poster boy for the New World Order. You want your name to be the one schoolchildren have to remember for their history tests. The one they write reports about. The one they are told to ‘be more like’ when they misbehave.” He made a clucking sound. “And here I thought when Pierce said that shit about soldiers and medals you wanted to disagree with him.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s blood thundered in his ears. “I did. I do. That’s not what I’m doing this for. If they don’t remember my name, that’s fine with me. I… Steve, you have to believe me. I am not doing this for anything like fame or glory. I’m doing this for my country.”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes narrowed once again. Bucky held his breath. Had he said too much? Had he put Steve into more danger? “Your country,” Steve said slowly. “You’re doing this for ‘your country.’ Why? Tell me why you love ‘your country.’”</p>
<p>Bucky glanced at the bathroom. The shower was still running. The reporters on TV were still interviewing refugees trying to get through Tennessee. “My family’s been in this country since before this was a country,” he began. “We’ve been military since the 1500s. The first Barnes over here was a Sergeant for the British army. He came here in, like, 1580 or something, to Connecticut. Brought over his family. Most of them stayed here, worked farms, moved to New York. There’s been a Barnes fighting in every war since the French &amp; Indian one. We’ve got a signed letter from General Washington praising the actions of a Captain Barnes in the Revolutionary Army. My aunt is a proud member of the Daughters of the American Revolution. One of my great-grandfathers stole his neighbors’ horses and sold them to the Union Army in 1861. Made us a fortune that my actual grandfather lost in ’29 because he had put it all into the Stock Market. I have uncles who died fighting in Belleau Woods in the first world war, and one who died on Omaha Beach and one who fought the Battle of the Bulge in the second. My family history is this country’s history. How can I give up now? How can I not do everything I can to keep it whole, keep it moving forward? How can I let it all fall apart instead? I’ve heard so much bullshit about how ‘dissent is anti-American’ because it disrespects soldiers. I say, those soldiers had better know that we’re fighting so that the people back home <em>can</em> dissent, <em>can</em> disagree with what we’re doing, with what we’re being ordered to do. That’s what my ancestors fought and died for: the right to disagree. That’s why I’m here now, doing everything I can, to make sure none of it was in vain.”</p>
<p>Steve’s eyes had gone wide. He stared like Bucky was the Second Coming or something. It made Bucky deeply uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to making speeches. He’d never been that good at them. To speak off the cuff? To open himself up like that? He’d never had the nerve. But Steve was worth the effort, the total honesty. Steve was worth everything.</p>
<p>Steve opened his mouth to reply but they both jumped when they heard Pierce say, “Nice speech. You practice that in front of a mirror or something?”</p>
<p>Shit. Bucky’s mind went blank. Shit. Shit. Shit. How much did Pierce overhear? How much did he understand about what Bucky was saying and, more importantly, why he was saying it? Did Bucky just betray himself? Or could he make it work for him? What should he do?</p>
<p>Steve twisted and stretched out across the mattress, sliding one bare leg across the blankets. He smiled at Pierce. “I just wanted to know Col. Barnes’s story. Why he was here. Just making conversation.”</p>
<p>Pierce, a towel around his waist and one across his shoulders, grunted. He flicked his bangs off his forehead. “Don’t. I can’t hear the TV.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Bucky said quietly. They were saved by the bedroom door opening and the doctor bustling through, apologizing for any delay. Pierce gave Steve and Bucky an assessing look, then guided the doctor into the bathroom.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The invaders, as Pierce insisted they be called, firmly crushed all residual opposition in their conquered territory. The FSA now encompassed roughly from I-26 in the south to the White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire and west through Tennessee, Illinois, and Michigan. They’d lost over half their land since the war started, most of it on the other side of the Mississippi.</p>
<p>Pierce was livid.</p>
<p>He called in Ambassador Carter to the Oval Office. He demanded England’s help. Once again, she calmly informed Pierce she was sympathetic to his cause but unable to persuade the Prime Minister at this time to provide any assistance. The FSA was losing support among the British people.</p>
<p>He dismissed the British Embassy. He gave Carter and her team seven days to depart. When she protested, he shortened her time to 72 hours before he instructed the federal police to begin confiscating whatever property remained and beginning arrests of all illegal aliens found on site.</p>
<p>Carter left the Oval Office immediately.</p>
<p>Pierce kept one hand on the back of Steve’s neck, dragging him along as he strode through the White House, into various offices and conference rooms, meetings and briefings, and, once, into a storage room where he unclipped Steve’s panty and shoved four fingers into Steve’s pussy, stared deep into Steve’s eyes and demanded that Steve come. It had been so sudden, so abrupt, so unexpected and terrifying that Steve wasn’t sure he could relax enough to even get slick, much less orgasm. Then he realized Pierce might not realize it if he had or not, so he gripped Pierce’s shoulders, forced himself to stare into Pierce’s cold blue eyes, and thought of Bucky.</p>
<p>Just as he felt himself start to slick up, he gasped and thrust his hips, turned his face to the ceiling and then relaxed all at once. In other words, he faked it.</p>
<p>Pierce removed his hand from Steve’s body and sucked his fingers like he’d been eating barbecue. Then he gathered Steve into his arms and breathed. “You’re such a good little slut,” he said. Abruptly, he yanked open the door and dragged Steve along with him to his next destination. It took some doing, but eventually Steve was able to reattach the panty. About half of the White House staff had seen his cocklet bouncing in the air by then, though.</p>
<p>Natasha managed to get Pierce to sleep in his own bed that night, Steve naked beside him once again.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Steve woke up to hear Pierce shouting at the morning news program. When he saw Steve was awake, Pierce grabbed Steve’s ankle and tugged him halfway out of bed.</p>
<p>“Shower,” he ordered. “Now.”</p>
<p>Uncertain, Steve slid off the mattress and followed, naked, into Pierce’s bathroom of gold and glass. Pierce twisted the knobs to turn on all the sprayers in the oversized shower stall, then dropped his robe on the floor. He looked Steve up and down while stroking his cock. Steve didn’t know how to react, so he remained still, fixing his gaze on Pierce’s chest, the silver hairs, the soft skin around his midsection. It loomed large in his periphery, but he avoided looking at Pierce’s cock.</p>
<p>“You gotta pee?” Pierce asked in a rough voice.</p>
<p>Actually, Steve thought, he kind of did. He nodded once.</p>
<p>“Go pee.”</p>
<p>For some reason, the pressure started building in his bladder, but the desire to actually pee in front of another person – in front of <em>this</em> person – made him suspect he wouldn’t be able to relax enough. He’d never had the sort of friendships with other Omegas to pee in front of them. Even at the Federal School there were individual stalls. But surely, people did that sort of thing, right? Close couples. Siblings. Small children. It was an acceptable thing. Right? He could do it, too. Right? It was just some silly, culturally ingrained, overly developed, sense of modesty. Right? He could overcome it. Of course, he could.</p>
<p>He walked toward the toilet, feeling the pressure build in his bladder. He could do this. He could pee in front of the god-damned President of the Federated States of America, the wanna-be Leader of the Free World. The Leader of the Free World who <em>wanted to watch him pee</em>. Easy. At the last moment, he turned and took a shuffling step backward to balance himself over the seat. Why was this suddenly so awkward? He literally did this every day. He sat down and tried desperately to convince his bladder that they were alone.</p>
<p>“Spread your legs more,” Pierce said, pitching his voice to be heard above the thundering shower. Steam billowed across the ceiling.</p>
<p>Steve spread his legs. In an effort to force his bladder to behave, he put his hand in a V-shape and pressed down firmly on his bladder in a steady, rhythmic manner. He blanked his mind, ignored everything around him but the sound of the rushing water and the need to urinate.</p>
<p>When he was done, Pierce groaned. “That was so filthy,” he said. “Next time you can pee on me.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded obediently and pushed the buttons for the bidet.</p>
<p>Showering with Pierce was very different from the fun, sexy experience it had been with Bucky all those weeks ago. There was fondling, and a great deal of frothy soap, but Pierce was never going to get on his knees to fuck anyone and their genitals weren’t going to match up any other way. Instead, Pierce pushed Steve onto his knees and told him to worship his cock. Steve assumed Pierce just wanted a blowjob, but he was wrong. Pierce wanted Steve to stroke him, suck and lick him, yes, but he also wanted Steve to struggle with it, to stared wide-eyed at it and be overwhelmed. When he finally got hard enough, Pierce sat down on the shower bench and gestured for Steve to move closer.</p>
<p>Pierce kept Steve on his knees. He thrust one leg between Steve’s thighs, then brought his hands up to continue stroking his cock. “Keep going,” he said. “Get me off. I want to come on your face. You can rub off on my foot. Rub off your sloppy pussy. That’s it. See how good I am to you?”</p>
<p>Steve drew Pierce’s cock to his mouth and licked around the head of it while stroking the shaft with the fingers of one hand. With the other, he fondled Pierce’s sac. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable arrangement of limbs. Pierce’s knee pressed into his sternum, and he’d been putting off his pedicure for about a week too long, but Steve thought he maybe could manage an orgasm. If Pierce didn’t keep talking.</p>
<p>“You little Omega slut. Look at you on your knees. So hungry for cock.” Pierce stretched his arms high above him and then leaned his head back on his interlaced fingers. He spread his legs more and stared down at Steve. “I’m your Alpha,” he kept saying. “I’m your god. I own you. I own everything about you and you love it. You need to be owned. You need to be treated like this. You don’t want independence. You don’t want all that responsibility. It’s a headache. It’s a hassle. Ruling is not for the faint of heart. It takes a superior man to rule the people. I am that superior man. It’s taken me too long to achieve my destiny and I am not going to let some kraut scientist ruin it for me. Ahhh-! Suck me. That’s it.”</p>
<p>Steve sucked obediently. He felt Pierce’s foot push up between his legs, the toes jabbing into the tender skin of his vulva. His cocklet was taking notice of all the movement, the rising Alpha pheromones, and it brushed against Pierce’s ankle. It almost felt good, so Steve did it a few more times. Maybe he could come like this?</p>
<p>“Harder. Harder,” Pierce urged. “Work that knot, little bitch.”</p>
<p>Steve gripped the knot.</p>
<p>“Tighter! Tighter or I’ll fuck your throat with it, I swear to –“</p>
<p>He used both hands.</p>
<p>Suddenly, one of Pierce’s hands was on the back of his head, pushing Steve’s mouth onto his cock while he spurted weakly on Steve’s tongue. All movement ceased while Pierce enjoyed his orgasm. When he was done, Pierce let Steve’s mouth slip off his cock and gasp for air.</p>
<p>Pierce used his grip on Steve’s hair to pull his head back. He affected a sympathetic air. “Poor little thing. Didn’t you come?”</p>
<p>Steve ventured a one-shouldered shrug.</p>
<p>“Well, get on up here. Spread yourself on my lap. No, no. Face me.”</p>
<p>Steve found himself within an inch of Pierce’s satisfied smile.</p>
<p>“There we go,” Pierce said. He held Steve’s shoulder with one hand while slipping his other down between Steve’s legs. He shoved two fingers into Steve’s hole and held them steady against his own thigh. “You need something in you, don’t you,” he explained. “Dance on my fingers. Pretend it’s my cock. Now, I know it’s not thick enough, but you’ll just have to make do if you want to feel good.”</p>
<p>I’ll feel good if you just stop, Steve thought, then covered the traitorous sentiments by closing his eyes and affecting a blissed-out expression. After a few thrusts onto Pierce’s fingers, Steve began to gasp and cry out. He had to hold onto Pierce’s shoulders for balance, which destroyed the fantasy that he was dancing on Bucky’s hand. He decided instead that, for some reason, Bucky was watching him, like this was a kinky sex show and Steve was the star and Pierce had paid some exorbitant amount of money to have him, but Bucky had still refused to let Pierce actually fuck him. Pierce could only use his hand and Bucky was standing there, watching, protecting him from being mistreated or hurt. Bucky was protecting him. Bucky was there. It was Bucky’s mouth on his chest, biting the swell of his breast, now digging his fingernails into his ass cheek, reveling in the honest cries of his orgasm.</p>
<p>Except it was just Pierce who looked Steve directly in the eye. “Feeling better, right? You just needed a good fuck.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded, still feeling the sharp come-down from his reintroduction to reality.</p>
<p>“Say it,” Pierce urged him. “I want to hear you admit it to yourself out loud. Go on.”</p>
<p>“I just needed a good fuck.” The words felt like they had been punched out of him.</p>
<p>“Say ‘thank you.’”</p>
<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p>
<p>Pierce made a scoffing noise. “Come on. You’re a smart girl. You know what I want to hear.”</p>
<p>For fuck’s sake. Steve wondered what would happen if he gouged out Pierce’s eyes right then. He could do it. Just drive his thumbs into Pierce’s eye sockets. He’d scream, there’d be blood, but who would hear the screams? And the blood and whatever else came out of his skull would just go down the drain. Steve could just walk out of the shower, get dressed and no one would ever know. But of course, he’d never do that. He swallowed his pride. He was getting used to the taste.</p>
<p>“I just needed a good fuck. Thank you, sir, for giving me a good fuck.”</p>
<p>Pierce grinned and pulled Steve into a hug. “That’s my good girl,” he said.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Steve spent the day trying to find a comfortable position. At one point, he spied a smear of blood on his used toilet paper, but when he called down to the onsite medical suite and spoke to an unfamiliar nurse, she told him to stop being hysterical. Some spotting was normal during the early months of a pregnancy. He decided the bits of blood were probably abrasions from Pierce’s fingers, or cuts from his nails. The achy feeling had to be more from the general inactivity and the constant floor-sitting.</p>
<p>If that weren’t bad enough, the invading army somehow destroyed the militia stronghold in Augusta then came straight up I-95 toward Richmond. The media kept saying that the reports of flying robots with lasers were exaggerated, that ignorant country people were actually seeing helicopters or soldiers in jetpacks. They featured experts with degrees in political science to explain the psychological and neurological underpinnings of mass hysteria. They brought on former military suppliers to explain how robots could not fly, that realistic human-like robots were decades into the future, why a manned suit of iron would cook the soldier inside the instant enough power was generated to produce the first laser beam.</p>
<p>Rumors spread through the militia groups. Morale plummeted with each report of defeat or surrender of one unit or another. Tanks and cannons were blown up before they could fire more than one shot, supply depots were melted to slag, electronic locks malfunctioned and passwords stopped working and systems shut down as soon as they were accessed. Power stations blacked out at random. Wireless systems stopped transmitting signals. Even radio broadcasts were being interrupted. The only information that escaped the onrushing invasion forces were on hardcopy or eyewitness testimonials, and the eyewitnesses were being described as ‘hysterical,’ ‘ignorant,’ or ‘deluded’ on televised news reports.</p>
<p>In thirty hours, Richmond was under siege. The aging bridges were the first to be damaged, then the beloved statues, sculptures and historical markers along Monument Way – with the notable exception of the memorial to Arthur Ashe. Six hours later, the city formally surrendered and the invading army turned its sights toward Washington.</p>
<p>The northern and western defenses were holding steady; all the action was along the southern lines. Pierce kept demanding to know the instant that changed. He also wanted to know why the invaders weren’t pressing their technological advantages along every front. Didn’t they have more flying robots, he asked in a private meeting in the Oval Office, Steve at his knee pretending to sleep. Maybe, Bucky responded, they only have the two we’ve seen?</p>
<p>Pierce demanded to know what was up with the ‘bow and arrow guy.’ Apparently, he was the one who infiltrated Richmond’s City Hall. He fought his way through the local militia, the New Richmond Howitzers, with apparent ease, then held the colonel in command of the city at arrow-point until he agreed to the surrender terms.</p>
<p>“We can expect an attack within the week,” Bucky predicted. “We should have a plan to get you and your family to safety,” he told Pierce.</p>
<p>“That’s quitter talk,” Pierce replied, “and anyway, Schmidt assures me we’ll be ready to go before then. We can win this thing yet.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Rumlow came in just after 5 AM. He woke up Pierce with news from the Director of the FBI that they’d uncovered a plot to place a mole inside the White House, along with evidence that it might have succeeded “at the highest level.” The enhanced interrogation yielded the identity of several turncoats and sympathizers, including Vice President Nickels’s Chief of Staff, Sharon Carter, who’d been missing for two days.</p>
<p>“Why am I just hearing about this now?” Pierce bellowed as he pulled on clothes from his closet. “I told him not to hire that woman. Beta bitch. So what if she’s got a great ass and legs that won’t quit? She’s a god-damned traitor.”</p>
<p>Rumlow shrugged. “I agree, sir. He should have hired an Alpha. You know if you can trust an Alpha, sir. You’ve proved that.” He glanced at Steve, still wrapped up in bed.</p>
<p>Steve closed his eyes and tried to find sleep again. Pierce may have gone to his room at 10:30 the night before, but he’d kept the TV on until almost one AM. Steve had wanted to sleep, but Pierce made him sit naked on his lap and sprawl out so he could play with Steve’s body while they watched the late-night news. Pierce had managed to get hard enough near midnight to actually fuck him, though he didn’t manage a full knot. It left Steve feeling unfulfilled and restless and now he just wanted to sleep.</p>
<p>“Sir,” Rumlow said, holding up his hand, “you have time to shower, if you want. The interrogator won’t be ready to meet with you for an hour. He’s getting all the information together.”</p>
<p>Pierce fixed Rumlow with a level look, then nodded. “Fine. Send up the doctor. Get me coffee. Get Stevie up, too. She got ridden hard last night.” Pierce dropped his pants, revealing his nude body, and walked into the bathroom to take a shower.</p>
<p>As soon as Pierce had left the room, Rumlow moved to the bedside to look down at Steve. “Hey there,” he said softly. “You awake?”</p>
<p>Steve blinked at Rumlow. What did he think? He nodded, yawned and rubbed his eyes.</p>
<p>“You got another bathroom down the hall, yeah? You need some help getting there?”</p>
<p>Steve frowned and sat up. He was naked but didn’t really care if Rumlow saw him or not. Why should Steve be coy? Rumlow’d already done whatever he wanted to do. There wasn’t anything Steve could do now to prevent Rumlow from doing it all again. He was so tired and sore and stretched out. He just wanted to sleep.</p>
<p>But then Rumlow was holding out Pierce’s robe with the Presidential Seal on it and draping it over Steve’s shoulders. He hovered close as Steve walked through his bedroom and down the service hallway to the bathroom set aside for his use. Rumlow hesitated but didn’t accompany him inside. He was clearly conflicted about it, and pointedly folded his arms and leaned against the wall beside the bathroom door as Steve closed it.</p>
<p>Steve leaned against the closed door and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. An unfamiliar feeling washed over him, at least as it pertained to Rumlow. He closed his eyes and muttered, “Fuck. Me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Pierce Poses a Question</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It all came down to this moment.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky made it into the White House that morning ten minutes earlier than normal. Traffic had been oddly light. He thought he’d have time for a trip to the good coffee in Coulson’s office, but one of the nameless staff on the other side of the security station was already waving at him and calling his name.</p>
<p>That wasn’t good.</p>
<p>He resolved to pace himself as he processed through the metal detector. Were the guards paying more attention to him or less? Was this the day they were going to pat him down or – no. They let him go through with the same sort of bored nods they always did.</p>
<p>“Col. Barnes, sir,” the young staff member said. She was a Beta, the sort who was voted Student Body President but never had a date to the prom. Bucky thought her name was possibly something like Mary? Carrie? “You’re needed immediately in the Oval Office.”</p>
<p>Bucky blinked at her. “Can I put my stuff down first? Get some coffee?”</p>
<p>“No, sir,” Mary (or Carrie) replied. “The president was specific. Immediately.”</p>
<p>“I’ll need to make a call first, cancel my appointment,” he lied, getting his phone out of the inner pocket of his suit coat.</p>
<p>She shook her head. “Sorry, sir, but they’ve initiated a cell phone block over the building and the grounds.”</p>
<p>“A what?” Bucky had a bad feeling about this.</p>
<p>“They’re blocking all wi-fi and Bluetooth and even the Internet from the building. Once you’re in here, you have to be cleared before you can leave. No one’s getting email, no texts. It’s crazy. How did people work like this?” Carrie (or Mary) did look rather frazzled.</p>
<p>Fantastic, he thought. There had to still be a way to communicate. “What about landlines?”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. “Good luck finding a free one of those. Anyway, everything’s going through the switchboard.”</p>
<p>“We have a switchboard?” He supposed it made sense the White House would have one, but where would it be?</p>
<p>“I guess so?” Mary-Carrie had clearly reached the end of her useful knowledge.</p>
<p>He gave up with a sigh. “All right. Do you know what this is about?” he asked as he started off down the main hallway.</p>
<p>“No, sir,” she repeated, keep pace. “Just that I was to make sure you didn’t get lost on the way.” She glanced at him. “Sorry, sir. Just following orders.”</p>
<p>“I guess someone has to,” Bucky muttered. When she looked curiously at him, he just shook his head. They were passing through the main suite of administrative offices when he saw Coulson’s personal assistant, Eleanor, stepping out of a cubicle corridor. He called out a greeting and she easily matched their steps.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Colonel,” she said in her usual brisk manner. “On the way to the Oval, hm? Lots going on today.” She leaned forward enough to catch the other Beta’s eye. “I’ve got this, Terrie. You’ve got things to do.” Terrie (Terrie! It was Terrie!) peeled off just as Eleanor and Bucky reached an intersection.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Bucky asked softly. “You must have heard something.”</p>
<p>“It’s big,” she replied, her eyes scanning the corridors for eavesdroppers. “The VP is in there. Sharon Carter’s gone missing. Turns out she’s the niece of the British ambassador and might be a spy. Except she might be being framed. Odds are up in the air. Pierce is supposed to be getting the update now.” She checked the time on her FitBit. “That meeting should be over by now, though.”</p>
<p>“Why does he need me in there? I’ve got nothing to do with Nickels.”</p>
<p>Eleanor shrugged. “He’s got Rumlow in there, too, and lately, wherever one of you goes, the other one’s not far away.” They stepped to one side to let some aides pass in the other direction.</p>
<p>“Still doesn’t make sense.” Bucky deliberately didn’t resume their walk to the Oval, forcing Eleanor to stop, too.</p>
<p>She grimaced, shook her head, and folded her arms. “It’s only guesswork, but did the Vice President’s office have anything to do with, you know,” she glanced around them, then lowered her voice, “rebirth?”</p>
<p>Bucky thought fast. “No. I don’t think they were even copied on any of the documents. You think it has something to do with,” he glanced around them and whispered back, “the project?”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “I heard some rumors. What with the mass defections, the blockades, and all our funding drying up, what’s one more disaster, am I right?”</p>
<p>“Defections?”</p>
<p>“God damned militia.” Her mouth twisted with disgust. “Soon as they see real battle, they wet their pants and beg for their mamas.”</p>
<p>“One more thing. We have a switchboard?”</p>
<p>Eleanor grinned. “Oh, yeah. Of course, we do. There’s a whole room for it and everything tucked up beside the old press briefing room. It’s mostly used now for routers and whatnot. We had to bring in Conrad out of retirement. He’d worked here for ages but when Pierce laid off all the Omegas in government service, well, he had to go, too. Like you should.” She gestured for him to get a move on. Bucky thanked her and hurried off.</p>
<p>Just as he approached the main door to the Oval, someone left it, swinging the door wide to barrel through. Bucky caught the door on its backward motion and slowly slipped into the room, taking care not to interrupt the rant he was walking in on.</p>
<p>“-that bitch arrested, do you hear me? Arrest everyone in that embassy if they’re not gone now.”</p>
<p>“Sir, they have until –“</p>
<p>“I don’t fucking care how long they have! Start arresting them now!”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. I’ll make the call, sir.”</p>
<p>The room was crowded, a sea of grey and black business suits, military uniforms, and tailored dresses from Talbots in professional, muted tones. In the center of the room, however, sitting in one of the armchairs, was the First Lady. She wore a red and white dress cut to reveal most of her cleavage and was sitting to display most of her legs. Bucky noticed the chunky heels on her shoes and the oddly grooved bracelets on each wrist. She was posed in a sexy, casual manner, but something in her appearance didn’t seem to match.</p>
<p>Pierce was standing beside her. He’d been screaming at his son-in-law, Jarrod Koch, who had just pulled out his cell phone and was now staring at it in frustration.</p>
<p>“There’s a open landline on Renata’s desk outside,” Coulson said kindly, laying a hand on Jarrod’s elbow.</p>
<p>“Right.” Jarrod rushed toward the administrative office.</p>
<p>Coulson met Bucky’s eye and gestured him closer, meeting him just beyond the circle of more comfortable seating. “Eleanor get you up to speed? I sent her out looking for you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Terrie grabbed me at Security, then Eleanor found me. What the hell, Coulson?” Bucky moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Coulson, facing the interior of the room. Pierce was now listening intently to a rumple-suited Alpha Bucky had never seen before while two generals bickered loudly about battle tactics in the First Civil War.</p>
<p>“Everything’s happening,” Coulson muttered. “Follow protocol. You’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>Bucky saw Vice President Nickels mopping his brow by the French doors. Two federal officers in their black uniforms bracketed the exit, their masked faces unyielding and implacable. Natasha looked calm as she examined her manicure, but maybe she was kicking her foot too quickly? The generals seemed to be arguing about Antietam and if there were any way for the South to have won or if DC were just that impossible to invade from that direction. Bucky turned his head, already bored with the masturbatory display of military strategic thinking and saw Steve sitting on his ridiculous floor pillow in the center of the room.</p>
<p>He was so beautiful. He looked like he belonged in one of those sensualist paintings of harems and odalisques that were so popular a hundred years ago. Dressed today in blue and red, with a thin white knit capelet loosely draped over his slender shoulders, Steve sat cross-legged on his pillow and played with the thick lock of golden hair that curled across his collarbone. His huge blue eyes seemed to take in the whole room. He had one hand crossed over his abdomen and Bucky felt a surge of protective urgency about the baby growing inside. Bucky renewed his resolve to ensure that Steve would be safe, secure, and in a stable enough environment that he could raise his own child in peace. It mattered less and less to Bucky that he be with Steve, just that he would know Steve was safe. If he knew for certain Steve was safe, Bucky could do anything he had to. Even be nice to Rumlow, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere to walk up and stand on his other side.</p>
<p>“You here long?” Bucky asked with a nod of greeting.</p>
<p>“I was here all night,” Rumlow said, arms folded. “Barely got any sleep. How come you lucked out and missed guard duty?”</p>
<p>“Guard duty?” It explained why he was still wearing the black tactical uniform he was in the day before.</p>
<p>Rumlow gestured with his elbow toward Pierce. “The president wants to be guarded by someone he <em>trusts</em>, which is only you or me. I guess I was the one he found. It’s going to be your turn tonight to stand guard while he fucks his Omega. No way can I do that twice in a row.”</p>
<p>Bucky blinked. “In front of you? You saw-?” He couldn’t imagine it. He never wanted to see it. He wasn’t going to picture it now.</p>
<p>“No,” Rumlow said with a laugh. “I stayed in the sitting room the whole time. I heard him through the door. Which was close enough. Not like I want to sit there and watch his wrinkled dick try to-“</p>
<p>“Gentlemen,” Coulson said loudly. “If you please.”</p>
<p>Rumlow lifted a hand in apology, but no one else had indicated they’d noticed their conversation. Bucky tilted his head toward Rumlow to ask, more softly, “Why are we here now? Just as guards?”</p>
<p>“Not entirely sure,” Rumlow said. “Except that the VP’s office apparently knew about the project when they weren’t supposed to, so now Pierce thinks Nickels’s been leaking info to the Brits through his Chief of Staff who you have to have heard has been conveniently missing for two days.”</p>
<p>“Two days, huh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. You realize what else happened two days ago.” Rumlow nodded toward the president. “He kicked Brits out of the country.”</p>
<p>“Shit.” It didn’t look good. “So, why are we on lockdown?”</p>
<p>“They’re trying to plug the leak.” Rumlow grimaced. “It’s my niece’s sweet sixteen today. I’m supposed to video chat later.”</p>
<p>“You have a niece?”</p>
<p>Rumlow just stared at him. “It’s not that unusual.”</p>
<p>“No – I mean –“</p>
<p>“Good of you to join us, Col. Barnes.” Pierce’s voice carried across the room, effectively ending even the generals’ strategy conference. “I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”</p>
<p>Bucky refused to be self-conscious about his suit. It wasn’t his best suit, but it was a good workday suit, well-tailored and comfortable. It wasn’t like he’d been given any notice that today might require a more active ensemble. “Good morning, Mr. President,” he called out. “How can I be of service?”</p>
<p>Pierce glared through narrowed eyes from Coulson to Bucky. “Colonel, there’s been a leak. The vice president’s office has been infiltrated by a mole. That mole has previously undisclosed familial ties to the British ambassador. I have already expelled the entire British embassy. I gave them 72 hours, but I want them all gone now. I’m sending the federal police to clean them out and arrest any stragglers. If possible, they’re to take the ambassador herself into custody. The rest, well…” He shrugged. “I need a point person on the ground I can trust to bring the ambassador back to me here. Which one of you is it going to be?”</p>
<p>Rumlow coughed a little. “Sir?”</p>
<p>“It’s simple,” Pierce said. The generals quietly watched, clearly hanging back while Pierce held the floor. “I need someone on the ground who I can trust to ensure that the federal police take care of things at the British embassy. I need someone to take Ambassador Carter into custody while ensuring everyone who doesn’t surrender is dealt with. How is this difficult to understand? Commander, you’re not impressing me right now.”</p>
<p>“Apologies, sir. Just requesting clarification. You said, ‘dealt with,’ sir?” Rumlow repeated.</p>
<p>“With extreme prejudice.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s blood ran cold. Pierce wanted one of them to oversee an operation that would result in multiple casualties and death in order to take Peggy Carter into custody. He thought quickly. If he volunteered, he’d have control of the operation and could protect as many people as possible. If he remained, he’d be here with Pierce, ready to take advantage of whatever situation was going to pop up next. He’d be here to protect Steve. If Rumlow went, he would most likely execute everyone in order to arrest Carter, who might not fare as well under his ‘care.’ If Rumlow stayed, he’d have the chance to influence Pierce. And he’d be with Steve.</p>
<p>Should he volunteer to go? Should he let Rumlow go? Protect Steve or protect the remaining embassy workers?</p>
<p>The calculus made, Bucky opened his mouth and volunteered.</p>
<p>Pierce peered at him for a long moment and then nodded. “Very good,” he said. “The operation is going down in thirty. I want you there to personally arrest Ambassador Carter. I want her here for questioning within the hour. I’m going to look that bitch in the face and tell her she’s never seeing ‘jolly old England’ again unless they cough up the money they owe me. Someone’s going to pay for her crimes and it’s either going to be her or her lousy country. I don’t care which. Got it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>“Then get out of here. Jarrod’s in there with the details.” Pierce gestured with his thumb toward the administrative office. Through the open door, Bucky could see the nervous-looking Alpha speaking into a telephone handset.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long to change into tactical gear, get onsite at the Embassy, and connect with the federal officer in charge, Chief Maddox. Maddox was a Pierce loyalist, one of the few who’d openly supported the president’s policies before his initial nomination. Now a high-ranking official with the FBI, Maddox had more than thirty years of law enforcement experience. He didn’t need Bucky’s help to plan the embassy takeover, so that was the first thing Bucky told him.</p>
<p>“I’m not here to take over or second-guess you,” Bucky said, squinting behind his sunglasses. “I’m only here to take the ambassador into custody and bring her to Pierce, if she’s still onsite. Otherwise, this is all yours.”</p>
<p>Maddox nodded once and then promptly ignored Bucky’s presence.</p>
<p>The British embassy was adjacent to the Naval Observatory, sort of wedged between Observatory Circle and Massachusetts Avenue, northwest of the White House along Embassy Row. The original ambassador’s residence had been built in the 1920s. Made of red brick, it was a charmingly situated Queen Anne-style manor house complete with manicured gardens, leafy trees, and a statue of Winston Churchill. In the lot adjacent sat the actual embassy office building, a square structure surrounding a square courtyard. Maddox had sent officers and agents to comb through the gardens, along the tennis courts and swimming pool outside the ambassador’s residence, and hunt for stragglers, escapees, and hidden or discarded documents, currency or technology. The office building itself was blocked off by cars and temporary barricades. Armored vans, SWAT vehicles and black SUVs blocked the minor traffic along the roadways. Helicopters hovered in the sky above them.</p>
<p>Maddox had positioned his command post, a retrofitted shipping container attached to a semi, in a shaded spot between the residence and the office building. Someone had set up cameras and wi-fi routers to boost communications throughout the property. Bucky observed the controlled chaos from inside the command post, from the placement of the agents to the reports of movements inside the buildings. Over a hundred officers and representatives from different agencies surrounded the embassy, blocking off each exit. Bucky gave a spare thought to the possibility of tunnels that might allow the embassy residents to flee that way, but didn’t say anything about it to Maddox. If he didn’t think of it, Bucky wasn’t going to tell him.</p>
<p>An agent had been assigned to warn the embassy via megaphone of their intention to move in at 10 AM, counting down every five minutes. Someone had hacked into the internal communications network of the embassy and one of the techs was in charge of calling out the movements of the personnel. Maddox’s people had done a headcount and determined that less than twenty percent of the staff remained, including the ambassador herself, who was presumed to be on the second floor of the residence.</p>
<p>At ten minutes ‘til, Maddox muttered, “Fuck it,” and gave the go-ahead. He glanced at Bucky and shrugged, mouthed the word ‘oops’ at him, then returned to watching the breaches on the monitors.</p>
<p>Almost immediately, there were shouts, screams, and protestations from the embassy staff in the main building. Gunfire drew Bucky’s attention to the jerky bodycam footage of hallways and offices devoid of people but full of office furniture. Bucky saw pale rectangles on walls, bare nails, and empty plinths where photographs, artwork and sculptures presumably had been. Someone turned a corner and there were armed embassy security guards taking aim, shouting orders, and then white flashes, loud bangs and then – all the monitors went dead. The computer techs started cursing, typing harder, slamming their palms on their keyboards, shouting into cell phones and headsets.</p>
<p>“What the hell happened?” Maddox yanked his headset off and shouted into the mouthpiece. “Somebody answer me!”</p>
<p>One of the techs turned away from the folding table. “I think it was an EMP, sir. We can’t get anything to work.”</p>
<p>Maddox started cursing, demanding they reboot and get everything back up and running ‘stat,’ but Bucky just jumped out of the command post and started sprinting toward the ambassador’s house.</p>
<p>They found Ambassador Carter in the basement, kneeling on the floor, her hands behind her head, no weapons in sight. By the time Bucky got to the scene, she was being handcuffed. There was blood on her split lip, but otherwise, she was in relatively good condition. She looked satisfied, if nervous around the edges. Bucky gave a cursory examination to the basement, including the wine cellar, a security office, and a device about the size of a breadbox that appeared to be capable of delivering an electro-magnetic pulse sufficient to cover the entire embassy territory. He gave orders to have the device boxed up and removed, then took custody of the ambassador.</p>
<p>Bucky didn’t stop for questions. He just placed Carter into the back of his official vehicle, told her to keep quiet, then got in and started up the engine. He took a brief moment to play a training tutorial on Ant Farm, then set his cellphone on the seat beside him and put the car into gear.</p>
<p>“EMP, huh? How long did you have that planned for?”</p>
<p>In the rearview mirror, he saw Carter squint at him, then turn her head to look out the window.</p>
<p>“Nothing’s being recorded in here,” he said. “This is the only chance you’ll probably get to speak freely for a long while.”</p>
<p>“My government will get me out.”</p>
<p>“They’re going to want to know where your niece is.”</p>
<p>He glanced up in time to see her smirk. “She’s safe. She’s been safe for the past seventy-two hours. You people only noticed she was gone, what, one? two days ago?”</p>
<p>Nice work if true, he thought, and his estimation of the Carters went up.</p>
<p>Her cool, collected manner had returned. Bucky found that impressive, too, in light of the ambassador’s situation. “You’re on your way to the Oval Office, not some CIA black site. You know you don’t have diplomatic immunity anymore and Pierce is, to put it kindly, unhinged.”</p>
<p>“As if your president had ever honored anything diplomatic.”</p>
<p>“Point,” he said. “I think Pierce wants to interrogate you himself. It won’t be pretty.”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “Nothing about any of this has been pretty.”</p>
<p>There was a break in traffic, so he slowly pulled out onto the road. “And here I thought you’d found a pretty Omega to ease your suffering.”</p>
<p>She scoffed. “It would be suicide to think anything about Stevie.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean Stevie.” He glanced again in the rearview mirror. Traffic was moving along fairly predictably. He relaxed, keeping his speed under the limit.</p>
<p>Carter fixed him with a level stare. “Is she all right? Has something happened? Are you threatening her?”</p>
<p>“Who?” He came to a stop at a red light.</p>
<p>“You obviously know very well who. Is Angie Martinelli in danger?”</p>
<p>“Well, I suppose that depends on what else you let slip. In the wrong hands, information like that could ruin everything.” The light turned. He accelerated and the White House slowly came into view. “Any last words? Your time is running out.”</p>
<p>She smirked. “I regret that I have but one life to give for my country.”</p>
<p>Bucky laughed. “Nice.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>A person could get used to anything. A frog in a pot of cool water didn’t jump out. Raise the temperature slowly, it still wouldn’t jump out. A frog would allow itself to be boiled to death because it just didn’t perceive the danger until it was too late.</p>
<p>Steve felt like a frog. The White House was his pot of water and Pierce kept raising the temperature. Eventually, Steve knew, he would either be killed because he’d outlived his usefulness, or he’d die trying to assassinate Pierce himself. It seemed hopeless, but if he didn’t try to keep living, didn’t that mean his mother’s sacrifice was in vain? Didn’t he honor her by remaining alive no matter what he had to suffer through? Maybe his only victory was going to be measured by the number of days he managed to survive, the number of hours he managed to resist giving up or giving in.</p>
<p>He didn’t know. Maybe all he could do was float in the pot of water and try not to drown.</p>
<p>Or, more literally, sit on a floor pillow and try not to get a leg cramp. And, apparently, eat nothing but mandarins. At least this time, Rumlow provided a bowl for the peels, and Angie was beside him on his pillow to help him eat them. The smell of oranges was pleasant enough that it cut through the Alpha stench that clogged up the Oval Office as general after general postured and pled their case to move troops here or there or call in air strikes or whatever they were doing – it was a lot. Steve didn’t want to keep any of it straight. He just kept tuning them all out, focusing on peeling off as much pith off each orange wedge before slowly crushing the pulp between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. It made the time go by. It wasn’t like anyone wanted his opinion anyway.</p>
<p>Then Bucky came back. He had Ambassador Carter with him. She’d been beat up a bit, and handcuffed, but otherwise she was moving about easily enough. Angie grabbed onto Steve’s thigh when she saw her. Steve patted Angie’s hand and tried to make it a comforting gesture. He handed her another orange, a subtle message to keep her head down.</p>
<p>When Bucky entered with Carter, the generals and Jarrod were sent out of the room. Vice President Nickels was left, seated next to Rumlow on one of the couches; Agent Glass of the Federal Police Investigative Unit (as he had introduced himself to Natasha earlier), sat alone across from him. Pierce leaned back in his chair and drew his fingers through Steve’s loose hair.</p>
<p>“So this is the spy, hm?” Pierce asked, his tone almost lazy.</p>
<p>Bucky moved Carter into place facing Pierce then took a step back. He looked good in his black tactical outfit, Steve noted. The pants weren’t exactly form-fitting, what with the pockets everywhere, but they made his thighs look powerful. He also had on a black, long-sleeved shirt underneath a flak jacket-vest-thing Steve didn’t know the name of. There was a complicated belt, a gun strapped to Bucky’s hip, and some kind of reinforced harness-jacket combination that looked bullet-proof and, honestly, sexy as hell. The whole look was sexy as hell.</p>
<p>By contrast, the ambassador was in a patterned blouse, brown slacks and sensible shoes – plus the handcuffs and a bruised face. Steve didn’t want to be caught staring at either of them, so he focused again on peeling pith.</p>
<p>Pierce, meanwhile, seemed bland and unimpressed as he continued, “They tell me you set off an electro-magnetic pulse that knocked out all technology within a half-mile radius.”</p>
<p>“A kilometer, actually,” she said pertly. “A little more than half a mile.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter. You barely slowed us down. We still caught you.”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “Maybe I was caught precisely when I meant to be.”</p>
<p>Pierce laughed loudly, startling Steve into dropping his orange wedge into the pile of discarded pith and peel. “Are you a wizard now?” Pierce asked, then waved away his comment. “Agent Glass tells me you’ve been funneling information to the UK for over two years. Miss Carter. You’re a spy.”</p>
<p>Steve glanced up at that. Carter stood straight and tall as she replied, “I’m an ambassador. I’m an official representative of His Majesty King George VII of England. As such, I am due certain courtesies.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course,” Pierce said with a grin. “You’re still alive, aren’t you? How long you stay that way depends on what you tell me next.”</p>
<p>Steve felt his stomach sink. He liked Carter. He didn’t want to see her suffer needlessly, but he was afraid this was only going to get uglier. Pierce seemed way too self-satisfied for things to turn out any other way.</p>
<p>Carter squared her shoulders. “I’ve been trained to resist interrogation.”</p>
<p>“It won’t matter. Call your government and have them release the $500 million in cash and materiel they owe this country, then instruct them to land their armies and join us in the defense of our nation. Great Britain’s greatest ally requires her help.”</p>
<p>The more Steve had thought about it, the more it seemed the UK had just been stringing Pierce along. They were probably providing all their support covertly to the official government and the legitimate US president.</p>
<p>Carter coughed a little. It sounded like a laugh. “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” she said. “I mean, certainly I will call them. I have no problem relaying your message. The problem is going to be in making them do it. You can offer no incentive.”</p>
<p>“Can’t I?”</p>
<p>Carter didn’t so much as flinch. “As I said, I have no problem calling them. But there’s nothing you can do to me that will make them pay you any amount of money or send the first soldier to your aid.”</p>
<p>“I feel certain you will be able to think of something to say.”</p>
<p>She shook her head slowly, like she was considering her options. “No… I don’t believe I shall.”</p>
<p>Pierce sat forward, moving his hand in front of Steve’s face. Steve fought not to flinch as Pierce asked her, “Not even to save your precious Omega lover?”</p>
<p>“My what?”</p>
<p>Angie sat upright as Steve froze, the orange forgotten in his hands. He suddenly saw Pierce’s plan, his actual leverage against Carter. Pierce didn’t care about Angie as a person. He didn’t care about anyone. Their pain was nothing to him.</p>
<p>Steve felt very cold and very small.</p>
<p>“You see,” Pierce began, his voice as calm as before, “we’ve managed to trace how certain information was funneled out of this office.” This sounded familiar to Steve. Right, he thought, this was what Glass said was in the documents he’d emailed to Pierce, that Pierce had reviewed on his tablet. Why didn’t Steve try to peek at the tablet? Maybe he could have… nothing. He could have done nothing. Pierce was saying, “It seems that detailed plans and information about White House security, dossiers on high-ranking individuals working in this administration, and information on a specific off-the-books project has been leaked. All that information had to come from this office. Now, I know I’m not the leak. I know my wife isn’t the leak.” He paused. “At least, that’s what she’s been telling me all morning.”</p>
<p>“I swear to you, husband,” Natasha blurted out, fresh tears in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks, “I not betray you! I tell you, I think ‘Carter’ is a common last name! You have president with this name, <em>da?</em>” Steve glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye. She’d been weeping all morning, true, but something told Steve it was more of an act. But maybe he was being uncharitable. Maybe she was genuinely upset that her husband had had her investigated?</p>
<p>“Relax, Natashenskaya,” Pierce said. He sounded sincere and kind. “You’re too foolish to have come up with any of this on your own and too loyal to have consented to anything anyone else tried to convince you to do against me. No. You’re not smart enough to realize when people are playing you. Too trusting by half. It’s a good thing you’re beautiful and amazing in bed.”</p>
<p>She delicately dried her tears with a lace-edged handkerchief, smiled a little, then looked down at her lap. After a moment, she nodded. “Yes, yes,” she said. “I like to think I am smart, but I just play at these games. I only want help you. I try to help you so much, but…”</p>
<p>“It’s fine, my love,” Pierce said, his manner still kind and condescending. Steve turned his head just enough to see Pierce smile at his wife. “I will have to be more careful sharing information with you, that’s all. And I’ll have to restrict your company. I am sorry, but I have no choice.”</p>
<p>“Re-restrict? What do you mean?” she stuttered, her eyes blinking rapidly. Steve’s attention had flicked back to her. He needed to look at anything other than the two of them, but he couldn’t manage it. It was like a horrifying tennis match where the loser would end up with their entire life upended, and there was no way Pierce was going to admit defeat.</p>
<p>Pierce sighed. “It wasn’t you who disclosed the information. It was your silly-headed, traitorous Omega, Angie. She’s the leak.”</p>
<p>Angie gasped, “No! No, sir, I swear it!” She climbed onto her knees and lunged at Pierce. Steve twisted and caught her in his arms, preventing her from reaching Pierce and making things worse. He held onto her tight, the bowl of oranges, peels and pith spilling onto the floor.</p>
<p>Natasha just repeated in a dull voice, “Angie?” as Carter stammered out, “you’re joking!”</p>
<p>“Please, sir, please!” Angie begged. “I didn’t! I’m loyal, I swear!”</p>
<p>“Shut up, you silly girl!” Pierce’s voice roared above Steve’s head. He couldn’t tell if he were trembling or if the shuddering was all Angie’s, but he knew if he let go of his friend, she’d be destroyed. He just knew it somehow. Angie whimpered, tears spilling across her cheeks, and clutched at him. He gripped her back just as tightly and whispered in her ear, “there, there.” It was all he could think of to say.</p>
<p>“I know it was you,” Pierce was saying, a vicious thrill palpable in his tone. “It had to be you. You with your corn-fed attitude, that brassy, all-American charm. ‘Oh, no, Angie’s not suited for motherhood; she’s too old; let’s just use her as my personal assistant.’ That ring a bell?” Steve wondered what Pierce was referring to. He’d thought Angie had applied for a job, like anyone else. He should have known, though. The Omega unemployment rate was at least 80% throughout the FSA.</p>
<p>“I wanted to breed her,” Pierce went on. “If not myself then someone else in the Administration, but no. I was convinced to let her stay on as my dearest wife’s personal assistant, just like she requested, just like this Omega convinced her to request.”</p>
<p>Angie gasped. “No! No, sir! I would have done it.”</p>
<p>Steve adjusted his embrace of Angie to pull her even closer. He stroked a hand down the long braid of her hair.</p>
<p>Pierce’s tone turned mockingly paternal. “Then why weren’t you put forth as a candidate, hm?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, sir! I swear I don’t know!”</p>
<p>Steve held on fast. Had Angie been Pierce’s choice, would Steve still be in the Hays School? Or would he have been given on to someone else by now? What about Bucky? Would he be looking after her the way he was looking after Steve?</p>
<p>“Because she is too old,” Natasha interjected. “Her eggs too old. Dusty. She has dusty eggs.”</p>
<p>“Dusty eggs?” Pierce repeated. “Dusty eggs. My dear, Omega eggs do not become dusty.”</p>
<p>Steve glanced up at Natasha in time to see her shrug, a weak smile on her face. “It is Russian saying.”</p>
<p>“Is it?” Pierce sounded fascinated. “Tell me the saying.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it is,” Natasha said. She straightened in her chair, her hands gripping the armrests. She muttered something rapidly in Russian, her eyes darting side to side. Then she cleared her throat, said something in Russian, then, “Dusty eggs make poor chickens.” She twisted her lips. “It loses something in translation.”</p>
<p>“Nevertheless,” Pierce said with a growl, “she convinced you she was more valuable to you as your assistant than as the possible mother of your child, more valuable to you than any other Omega or Beta you might have chosen, and so she was there with you every single day. She left the White House because you permitted her to do so. She spent entire nights at the British Embassy because you permitted her to do so. She wore less-than-traditional clothing which allowed her to move about without being questioned because you permitted her to do so. She was privy to conversations, to documents, to information I trusted you with, and she was left alone for hours upon hours every day – all because she convinced you she was trustworthy. Well, she was not trustworthy. She lied to you. Worse, she lied to me.”</p>
<p>Maybe Pierce would just yell. Maybe something would happen that required his attention and he’d send Angie out and then forget about the matter entirely.</p>
<p>“Liars should be punished, don’t you think, my sweet?”</p>
<p>“Y-yes?” Natasha agreed. “Yes! I can punish her. Let me do it. She has dishonored me, after all.”</p>
<p>“And how would you do that?”</p>
<p>Steve and Angie held their breaths. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.</p>
<p>Natasha seemed to relax. “Why, with the bastinado, of course. It worked wonders on improving Stevie’s attitude.”</p>
<p>Steve grit his teeth together, remembering the incredible pain and agony that had kept him in bed for days. He did not wish that for Angie, but if it came to pass, he’d treat her with as much care and compassion as she had shown to him – which was a lot.</p>
<p>“The bastinado.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” she went on. “I should think a stroke on the sole of each foot would suffice.”</p>
<p>“Do you?” he asked. The chair gave a squeak as he shifted his position. “Do you really? Two strokes on the soles of her feet for making you into a liar? For lying to me? To the representative of the people of the Federated States?”</p>
<p>Fuck, Steve thought. This was going to be so much worse than he feared.</p>
<p>“Uh…”</p>
<p>“She committed <em>treason</em>, Natasha!” Pierce almost shouted. “I can’t let that stand. What message would that send to my allies?”</p>
<p>At that, Carter snickered. “What allies?” she muttered.</p>
<p>“The loyal citizens of this great nation, then? They deserve to know that the people around President Pierce are both loyal and trustworthy, and if they are proven to be not, that they are punished accordingly!” By the end of his speech, his voice was thundering throughout the Oval Office. “Am I correct, gentlemen?”</p>
<p>“Sir, yes, sir!” Bucky and Rumlow responded in unison like the well-trained military men they both were.</p>
<p>After a second, Nickels added in his own, “yeah, sure.” Agent Glass just bobbed his head a little.</p>
<p>Pierce’s attitude turned reasonable. “Then certainly she should be punished a bit more harshly than two measly strokes of the bastinado.”</p>
<p>Natasha had definitely paled as Pierce shouted, Steve saw, but she seemed to rally as she asked, “Then what would you suggest, my husband?”</p>
<p>“Bastinado is a good place to start, I’ll give you that. But I want her feet beaten bloody,” he said. “I want her unable to stand without pain. I want her to have to walk a hundred yards on her bleeding feet <em>unassisted</em> and throw herself down on the ground and beg for my forgiveness. I want her stripped naked and thrown onto a pile of thorns to lie there for a day and a night while people come to stare and gawk at her. After that, we’ll remove her larynx and send her to the brothels to serve out the end of her days performing for the drunken rabble.”</p>
<p>Steve wanted to vomit. Angie’s body lost all tension. It was as if she were a puppet and her strings had just been cut. His arms were all that held her up. If he could just not let go, then nothing bad would happen.</p>
<p>Vice-President Nickels gave a low whistle. “Jesus, Alex. That’s kind of medieval, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>“That’s kind of the point, don’t you think? Crush your enemies. Make examples of them so that no one else will think to rise up against you. It’s the only way to solidify true power.”</p>
<p>“I mean, can’t you just lock her up?”</p>
<p>“You mean,” Pierce said in mocking tones, “put her in some comfy jail cell where she’s given three square meals a day and free health care? Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>“You’re a monster,” Carter said suddenly. Steve turned his head enough to get a better look at her. She stood straight and tall, even with her hands cuffed. She was proud, unafraid. Steve admired her so much in that moment. He wished he’d had a chance to get to know her better. “A monster and a bully. The world sees you, you know. It’s watching you and they’re not on your side.”</p>
<p>“I have allies,” Pierce replied calmly. “I have allies you don’t know about. I have allies in your own government. In your royal family. You don’t think Charles, or King George or whatever, doesn’t want to be a real king? You don’t think he’d like to bring the colonies back into the empire and in exchange, be granted his birthright?”</p>
<p>“What birthright? What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>Pierce laughed. “He wants to be a real king. I can make that happen. I can restore monarchies all over the world. The people crave it, you know. They want to be told what to believe, how to think, so that they don’t have to do all the hard work themselves.”</p>
<p>“People want freedom. Democracy. They’ll never support what you’re proposing.”</p>
<p>“Then how did I ever get elected in the first place?” Pierce spread his arms wide. “How did I get into this position if the people didn’t put me here? I didn’t mislead anyone. I told them exactly what I was going to do. They elected me to this office, and I did it all. I stopped illegal immigration. I stopped immigration from shit-hole countries. I made asylum seekers wait in Mexico before being granted asylum and then <em>I made sure they never knew when their hearings were scheduled</em>, so they missed them all. Oops! Can’t be granted asylum if they don’t attend the hearings. And that’s just the first promise I made.” He held up his forefinger. “And fulfilled.”</p>
<p>“You caused thousands of needless deaths, untold suffering. You betrayed the principles this country was founded on.”</p>
<p>“Don’t fucking lecture me on the principles of this country,” Pierce said, his voice shaking as he finally lost his temper. “People think this country was founded on ‘individualism’ and ‘freedom’ and they’re wrong! This country was founded because some ordinary white Alphas and Betas – and they were <em>white</em> – decided they were tired of not having any power, so they took it. They took power for themselves and they enshrined it in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. They didn’t want to share the power. Sharing’s for the weak. They wanted to <em>enshrine</em> the power in the hands of the Alpha strong enough to take it, to take it and wield it. If they hadn’t wanted to do that, they would have written the whole thing differently.”</p>
<p>“The mere existence of the Bill of Rights is proof that the founders-“</p>
<p>“They left everything else to the states. <em>Everything else</em>. All the rest of it. Labor laws. Omega right to vote. Was supposed to be left to the states to decide.”</p>
<p>Not this nonsense again, Steve thought. His mother, Sarah, had been a strong supporter of workers’ rights. At least once a week she’d host a strategy session around her kitchen table with local organizers and activists. When he was small, Steve would sit underneath the table and color. When he got older, he’d sit in the corner. He couldn’t help but absorb the information the people around the table would shout about, argue about, discuss, explain, and sometimes, he’d get involved in their discussions. Sometimes, he’d make his point and change their minds or give them a valuable new perspective. Residing in the White House with his background should have garnered him unprecedented influence. Instead, here he was, kneeling on a floor pillow at the president’s feet, keeping silent. Not speaking up now was killing him inside. He needed to prove his point, prove Pierce wrong, <em>argue about it</em>. What he would give to have just one argument. He felt that spirit in him die a little more as he controlled himself.</p>
<p>“That creates an impractical patchwork of laws from state to state,” Carter was saying. “Why, one state could make child labor mandatory whilst another mandates free healthcare.”</p>
<p>“And that’s the beauty of it,” Pierce said. “You can move to the state with the laws you prefer. It’s simple.”</p>
<p>And completely impractical, Steve added to himself.</p>
<p>“And the rest of it? Slavery? Birthright citizenship?”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t know why she was continuing to argue. These questions had been settled years ago when Pierce first took office and there was no going back.</p>
<p>“The 13<sup>th</sup> Amendment was crafted without the input of the southern states,” Pierce said, referencing an Originalist argument against the amendment that (mostly) ended slavery. (Mostly.) (Steve had so many <em>opinions</em> about the prison system.)</p>
<p>“They were in <em>rebellion!</em>” Carter practically shrieked. “They’d forfeited any right to opinion.”</p>
<p>“Were they still states, or weren’t they?” Pierce replied calmly. “The position of the government at the time was that they were still states. Therefore, their Congressional representatives needed to have input on the amendment, too.”</p>
<p>“They ratified it,” Carter insisted, her jaw clenched tight. “They all did.”</p>
<p>“Eventually, of course,” Pierce agreed. “They were forced to do so in order to participate in the country. Besides, slavery’s a thing of the past, isn’t it?” He casually reached out and laid a hand on the back of Steve’s head. Steve’s eyes flew open.</p>
<p>“Right,” Carter said, her eyes narrowing. “A thing of the past.”</p>
<p>“I’m done. Commander,” Pierce said to Rumlow, “go tell Renata to send in some guards to retrieve our prisoner.” Rumlow immediately followed his orders. Steve heard a door behind him open and then the familiar voice of Pierce’s personal secretary.</p>
<p>Bucky asked, “Were you going to interrogate her further, sir?”</p>
<p>“Hm? No,” Pierce said, seeming a little bemused by the question. “I have no use for her.”</p>
<p>“Weren’t you going to have me call my government?” Carter asked. “Or are they here to direct me to a telephone?”</p>
<p>“Oh! Oh, no,” Pierce said, just as four large federal police officers strode into the room, followed by Rumlow, their boots thundering with threat. “These men aren’t here for you. They’re here for her.” Pierce stood up and greeted the officers. “Take the brunette,” Pierce said. “Don’t harm the blonde. She’s pregnant.”</p>
<p>“Oh, God,” Steve prayed without breath. Angie screamed as the officers descended upon them. Large, hulking Alphas surrounded them, blocking out everything else. Two of the Alphas grabbed Steve and lifted him bodily away from Angie whose nails scratched down his arms as two other Alphas pulled her away. Steve shouted in protest, begged, but they merely took Angie into custody without a word.</p>
<p>He stared, helplessly watching as one of the Alpha officers held Angie’s arms behind her back while the other produced a restraining muzzle and forced it over her head, fitting it to Angie’s mouth and jaw. She struggled even harder and the officer grabbed her by the side of the head and commanded her, “Stop it! Breathe through your nose! Slowly – in, then out. In, then out.” Tears streamed from Angie’s eyes even as she calmed down. The officer pulled the muzzle straps up and buckled them against the back of her head, securing the muzzle firmly in place across her mouth. Two more straps attached to each upper corner of the leather muffler and joined to a ring that fit against the center of Angie’s forehead. The straps passed diagonally across her eyes, obstructing Angie’s vision and so, with her forearms bound up against her back, she had to rely on the officers’ guidance not to bump into anything as they ushered her out of the Oval Office, leaving Steve now to feel like his strings had been cut, helpless and too stunned to do anything but follow Pierce’s urging and step closer to him. Numb, he saw that Rumlow and Bucky had meanwhile taken charge of Carter, bodily preventing her from interfering in Angie’s arrest.</p>
<p>“She’s done nothing wrong,” Carter said over Rumlow’s shoulder, her tear-streaked face twisted with anguish. “You’re a fool to think that girl’s done anything wrong.”</p>
<p>The crisis passed, Rumlow moved to stand behind Carter next to Bucky. Nickels wiped more sweat off his forehead and upper lip. Only Agent Glass appeared unmoved by the unfolding drama.</p>
<p>“Nothing wrong?” Pierce smiled into Steve’s face as he pet his cheeks. “There, there,” Pierce murmured. “That’s all over. Nothing to worry about. You don’t ever have to see that traitor again. She lied to you, you know. She was a filthy liar. A nasty girl. But you’re safe, Stevie, safe with me.” He glanced over at Carter, pitching his voice to carry. “That Omega tramp bewitched my wife into providing access to classified material which she then provided to you.”</p>
<p>Carter choked out a laugh. “How?!”</p>
<p>“Don’t think I’m unaware of your little rendezvous and tete-a-tetes, your bubble baths and your secret little meetings in the changing rooms at those high-end boutiques my wife enjoys so much,” Pierce said with a sneer. “I know you’ve been seeking out sweet Angie’s charms, making promises you never intend to keep.”</p>
<p>“Then if I’ve seduced her, how is any of it her fault?”</p>
<p>“She still did it,” Pierce said. He waited, clearly expecting Carter to respond, but when she didn’t, he frowned. “You’re not denying it.”</p>
<p>Carter shrugged. She smirked.</p>
<p>“What’s so funny?” Pierce asked carefully.</p>
<p>“That you think all this stems from one disloyal Omega amuses me,” Carter replied. “That you have forgotten the history of this place amuses me. That you forget that there are hundreds of people who have lived and worked in this building who were more than happy to provide information on schedules, floorplans, entry codes, wi-fi passwords. It’s easier to use the same passwords over and over again for common systems, you know. Need a new password? Just add a ‘1’ to the previous one. Then a ‘2,’ a ‘3,’ and so on.” She grinned. “There were a lot of people to ask.”</p>
<p>“You expect us to believe that your espionage was aided by lazy people who forgot to change the locks?”</p>
<p>“Essentially.”</p>
<p>Steve realized dully that tears were just falling out of his eyes. He wondered how long he’d been crying. He felt cold and, oddly, like he had no body. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t registering anything visually. He heard sounds and voices, but nothing made sense. Nothing computed. Nothing seemed to register in his brain.</p>
<p>Pierce gestured angrily toward Glass. “Get up,” he said. “I want to sit there. I need my Omega with me.” The rumpled agent stood to one side as Pierce pulled Steve to sit beside him on the couch. Steve could only curl up on the cushion and let Pierce pull his head to rest against his chest. “Glass, tell her what you found out for me.”</p>
<p>“Certainly,” Glass said with a little bow. Glass himself was maybe thirty, soft and doughy around the middle, with thinning hair of an indeterminate color. Steve thought he could probably be drawn only with circles and the color beige. “While Miss Carter would have us believe her simplistic explanation for these events, I know the truth. I know that England and our other so-called allies have been jealous of our success and dependent upon our wealth and military might in order to keep the peace in their own countries. England is a failing state, rotting from within. They can’t even maintain their own borders, what with losing Scotland in that referendum, and now Wales is hanging in the balance?”</p>
<p>Glass went on to describe a conspiracy so convoluted it made Steve’s head spin, when he did try to follow it in an effort to rejoin reality. Glass maintained that the Democrats had not only tried to steal the previous election but that by voting in it at all, they were trying to overturn the election before it, too. He said that all Democrats were Socialists and wanted to force the wealthy to give all their money to the lazy people who couldn’t be bothered to find work, and that they were funded by several of the richest men in the world, who maintained their wealth through the sexual trafficking of children that were then sacrificed in Satanic rituals. Glass tied all this to England sending Carter as a spy to the US to find a way into the First Family however she could, but mostly by befriending the First Lady. Glass insisted that it was Carter who sent Angie to apply for the position as Mrs. Pierce’s personal assistant and companion in the first place. Glass said that England wanted to retake their former colonies in order to regain their lost status as an empire and world leader. He said that England was only holding back its support in order to cripple the FSA to make the takeover easier, that they were allowing the invasion force to destroy the FSA so that they could mop up after and divvy the country between them. Which is also why, Glass maintained, the United Kingdom had allowed Scotland to leave the fold. Independent Scotland was going to fail and beg to be brought back, at which point they would agree to harsher terms and a more subservient position. The same thing would happen to Wales and Northern Ireland, too.</p>
<p>“This is ridiculous,” Carter said, after Glass had invoked the British royal family, Jeffery Epstein, Ghislane Maxwell and Alan Dershowitz in the conspiracy, claiming that Epstein was still alive and working against this mysterious worldwide pedophilia ring from the inside and that several notable liberal leaders had died and been replaced by robots. “The sheer number of people who’d have to be complicit in this numbers in the thousands upon thousands,” she said. “No successful conspiracy has more than maybe a half-dozen participants. More than that and someone is going to tell somebody something. That’s how the rest of us find out about them.”</p>
<p>“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Rumlow growled. Steve didn’t know for certain what was bullshit according to Rumlow, but he also found he couldn’t care.</p>
<p>“I’m bored with this,” Pierce said. “I’m just going to-“</p>
<p>Everyone stopped and stared as Dr. Zola suddenly burst through the admin offices, Renata calling out apologies and trying to get in front of him. Zola, however, was squirrely, and Pierce waved him in with an apology to his longtime assistant.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” Zola said, nodding his head in greeting to everyone. “This cannot wait, Mr. President.”</p>
<p>“And why is that, Arnim?” Pierce asked with a strangely benevolent air.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid, sir, that Dr. Schmidt has waited as long as he is going to wait for a decision from you,” Zola replied. He smiled faintly, as if apologizing for his words while he was saying them. “I tried my best to slow him down, but I am not as skilled an orator as you are, sir. I fear I lack authority to make him listen.”</p>
<p>“Why? What do you think he’s going to do?”</p>
<p>“He is ready, you see,” Zola said, clasping his hands in front of his chest. It made Steve think of a hamster or a little mouse. “More than ready. He can do it. He is about to do it. He may already be doing it, but I cannot say.”</p>
<p>“He is supposed to wait for my decision!” Pierce roared, making Steve flinch.</p>
<p>“I apologize, sir,” Zola said in his breathy voice, “but I fear I can no longer dissuade him from completing his experiment. Perhaps if you tried, sir. You are possessed of a silver tongue, not I.”</p>
<p>Glass and Nickels exchanged confused looks. “What’s going on, Alex?” Nickels asked. “Who is this person? Who is Schmidt? You don’t… you don’t mean Johann Schmidt, do you? You said that guy was insane. You told me to kill the funding for his crazy military project. Something about injecting soldiers to give them comic book powers, right?”</p>
<p>Huh, Steve thought. He knew something the vice-president didn’t. Cool.</p>
<p>Zola didn’t look at Nickels. He kept his eyes on Pierce who pulled Steve onto his lap. “What should I do, Stevie?” Pierce asked as he smoothed his hands over Steve’s face, wiping away all traces of his tears. “I have to make a decision now. Which one do I trust? Rumlow? Or Barnes? You’ve fucked both of them, Stevie. You’ve spread your legs for them, welcomed them, begged for them. I know. You’re a sweet girl, Stevie, and you’d beg for any Alpha, I know. I’m not blaming you for it. It’s just your nature. You have needs and they eased your suffering. So you know as well as anyone. Which one should I trust?”</p>
<p>“Trust for what, sir?” Steve asked softly, struggling to focus himself now that he was being asked to participate.</p>
<p>Pierce smiled with one side of his mouth. “I can make one of them strong, quick, a mighty warrior. They also tell me the procedure might kill them instead. It’s 50-50. I give it to one and he dies, the other one, if he’s not as loyal, might turn on me. I give it to one and he becomes superior, the other one’s desire for that same improvement increases, but maybe he’s angry I didn’t choose him first. Who do I choose for the procedure? Which one is more loyal to me? Which one won’t turn on me ever? Which one do I trust? Tell me, Stevie. I need an answer now.”</p>
<p>The room was silent.</p>
<p>Well, shit, Steve thought. He didn’t know it would be up to him. Rumlow? Or Bucky? Which one got to be made into a super-soldier? Which one got to be made better? Or maybe made dead?</p>
<p>He took a breath and let it out. He looked Pierce in the eye and said a name.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Steve's Answer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The best laid plans of mice and men so often go awry.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve couldn’t help but wonder if he was being led to his execution. He’d given his answer, chosen one of two equally bad options, and Pierce had only nodded his acceptance. Now they were walking through come kind of underground tunnel, a tunnel he’d never known existed that everyone else seemed very familiar with. There were overhead lights every ten feet, flickering and faintly buzzing in the way old florescent bulbs tended to, a constant flow of cool air, and dusty pipes that snaked along the upper corners, all of which spoke to usage, age and human habitation. This could absolutely be some kind of prison. In his favor, however, he was still pregnant. There was no way Pierce was going to have Steve executed if he was still pregnant. Keep him in a cage until he gave birth? Sure. But outright kill him? Probably not.</p><p>Furthermore, Pierce probably wouldn’t also be the one with his hand on Steve’s neck, guiding him through the tunnel with ease. And Natasha probably wouldn’t be with them (or was she there to oversee his installation into a cage thus ensuring the safety and welfare of the baby she wanted so badly?). And Rumlow and Bucky and Dr. Zola and the two guards in the black uniforms of the federal police, their shiny masks completely obscuring the lower halves of their faces. Agent Glass had been ordered to keep Nickels behind despite the Vice President’s toothless demands for explanations, which did not ease Steve’s fears.</p><p>It was cold in these tunnels. Steve pulled his thin capelet tighter around his mostly nude body. His flat sandals made gentle slip-slaps as he kept up with Pierce’s longer strides. Moments like these, he really missed sweatpants, long-sleeved shirts, and thick socks. And real shoes. He’d liked wearing shoes.</p><p>They’d first passed several offices, including Bucky’s, Steve thought, catching ‘Barnes’ on a nameplate just as they passed. Then they turned into what appeared at first to be an access door but was actually a long hallway that, if Steve’s sense of direction held true, pointed away from the White House. Further down, walking on and on, everyone quietly kept up until they reached a single unmarked door, a keypad lock, and then entrance into… an empty laboratory?</p><p>Steve, centered among them, caught glimpses of a square room, an open door, bank-vault thick, before moving into the larger area with a tattered couch, long lab tables, concrete walls, grey floors, computer monitors, doors, and one young wide-eyed Beta in a lab coat pouring coffee into a tall travel mug.</p><p>“Erp,” she said. “Can I help you?”</p><p>“Young lady,” Pierce asked with faux civility, “where’s Dr. Schmidt?” The Beta pointed and their group moved through one of a pair of passageways past the next section of the lab, then into a room that would not seem out of place in a science fiction serial from 1937.</p><p>The room was noisy. Steve heard the screech of rubberized wheels on concrete, a motor shaking and rattling in its housing, lab-coated Alphas – he thought he recognized Dr. Killian and Dr. Sterns – shouting to be heard over the electrical roar filling the space as they darted from monitor to control panel and back again. Lights dimmed and flared in unison, making Steve feel like he’d wandered into a horrible dance club. There was even the smell of ozone and ammonia which made his nose wrinkle.</p><p>It was a large room with a high ceiling, suspended light fixtures and industrial fans. There were offices to the left and right of an open floor ringed with monitoring stations and equipment, and in the center a large machine of a sort Steve had never seen before. Shaped like a giant Tylenol capsule, the main portion of the piece was made of some shiny metal. There were dials and access panels affixed to the uppermost side. The whole thing was supported on a framing structure mostly comprised of two large wheels. Steve wondered if the capsule rotated, like a centrifuge, maybe?</p><p>Steve glanced up at Pierce in time to see the rage on his face the moment before he bellowed, “What is happening here? Where is Schmidt?!”</p><p>Several of the lab-coats glanced toward them, the Beta from before pushed past and place the travel mug of coffee next to a monitor, but no one responded except Dr. Killian, standing at a central control panel. “Good of you to join us, Mr. President!” he shouted. “Dr. Schmidt will be right with you, just as soon as he finishes making history!”</p><p>“Stop this at once!” Pierce shouted again. He dropped his hand to the back of Steve’s neck and squeezed. “This is completely unauthorized!”</p><p>Killian shook his head. “Didn’t need authorization, Alex. We just went ahead and did it.” He glanced over his shoulder and called out, “Sterns! Check your readings.”</p><p>Steve saw the smaller, plainer Dr. Sterns monitoring a different station. He was drinking from the travel mug. “Everything’s within tolerance. We’re going full Promethean here!” he cried out, shaking his head in wonderment. “The Nobel’s within our grasp. Just keep him in there a little longer.”</p><p>“As I told you,” Arnim said, turning to face Pierce, “Dr. Schmidt could not wait any longer for your decision, so he has been forced to make his own.”</p><p>Pierce tightened his grip on Steve’s neck. “So some random intern volunteer is-“</p><p>“No, Mr. President,” Arnim said, calmly triumphant, “no intern at all to be sure, but Dr. Schmidt himself shall usher in the Age of the Superior Alpha!”</p><p>Pierce stumbled forward, causing Steve to totter along with him. Natasha’s hands flew to cover her mouth. Rumlow cursed and Bucky put a hand on his sidearm. The federal police had hung back. Steve felt distinctly unsettled. He suddenly had more pieces to the puzzle but still no clue what the finished picture should be. Was this Project Rebirth? Was this what Bucky was trying to get information on? Was this the weapon? Were these members of the ‘world’s worst law firm,’ that he’d laughed about with Bucky what felt like decades ago, actually doing this?</p><p>Yes.</p><p>It was happening.</p><p>It was all happening <em>right the fuck now, right the fuck in front of him</em>.</p><p>Someone large and comforting stood next to him. Steve looked up; it was Rumlow. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, choosing Barnes instead of me,” Rumlow said in a normal volume. He probably didn’t see the need to lower his voice because it was so noisy and chaotic in the room. “You were trying to protect me,” he added. He looked down at Steve. “You don’t have to protect me. I protect you.”</p><p>Steve didn’t know what to say. He glanced past a red-faced Pierce at Bucky and saw that he was staring at the capsule that apparently had Dr. Schmidt inside. Was Bucky angry he wasn’t getting the treatment? Or maybe he was secretly relieved, because the man inside the capsule suddenly started screaming like he was being tortured. It all went on for another minute – movement and screaming and shock.</p><p>Then everything stopped. The noise, the lights, the chaos – everything stopped for precisely two seconds. Pitch darkness surrounded them, but just as Steve opened his mouth to shout in surprise, the overhead lights clicked back on. Then the wheels on the supporting structure began turning the capsule onto one end, making the placement of the dials and meters more sensible. There was a round window, like a porthole on a ship, about two-thirds of the way up, completely fogged over. Killian rushed forward and lifted up a portion of the capsule housing, revealing a chamber inside and a man Steve thought was supposed to be Johann Schmidt.</p><p>Except the man inside looked like any other tall, handsome, middle-aged Alpha who kept himself in perfectly good condition. He had thin, light brown hair, a standard-issue Teutonic face, broad shoulders, lean hips and thighs. He wore a tight white t-shirt and form-fitting khakis. He opened his eyes and his mouth stretched into a small smile. Killian reached to help the Alpha step out of the capsule onto the dais. The Alpha’s gaze found Pierce and his eyes lit up. “Mr. President!” he called out. “How wonderful of you to deign to join us.”</p><p>“Johann,” Pierce ground out slowly. He released his grip on Steve’s neck and pointed at the Alpha. “You were supposed to wait for me.”</p><p>It was Schmidt. It had to be Schmidt. Except this was a Schmidt who stood tall on both legs, his crutches abandoned. This was a Schmidt with muscles and obvious good health. But how?</p><p>Schmidt shrugged at Pierce. “You took too long.” He stretched his muscled arms above his head, flexing his broad shoulders. “This feels… extraordinary.”</p><p>Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from him. The changes were astonishing. Total improvement.  </p><p>“Holy shit,” Rumlow muttered beside him. “Little kraut made it work.”</p><p>“Marvelous!” Zola breathed. “Simply marvelous! Dr. Schmidt, you have done it. You have changed the world.”</p><p>“Not yet,” Schmidt replied, running a hand through his thick, lustrous hair. “But I will.”</p><p>“You were supposed to wait!” Pierce growled. He stamped his foot. “This isn’t waiting!”</p><p>Schmidt rolled his eyes at him. “You took too long,” he repeated. “You dithered when you should have been decisive! A true leader does not waffle. He does not hesitate. He makes his decision and strikes not a moment later.”</p><p>Killian reached toward Schmidt with the end of a stethoscope. “How do you feel?” He gently placed the bell against Schmidt’s muscled chest and listened, his body bent forward in an almost submissive bow.</p><p>“Like perfection,” Schmidt responded. He threw his broad shoulders back. “As I knew I would. The process was a success. The serum is ready.” Immediately, the younger Alphas and Betas began to applaud. Schmidt held up a hand and nodded toward them, acknowledging their praise. Killian withdrew his stethoscope and returned to his station to type something into his computer.</p><p>Natasha stumbled backward until she fell into a rolling chair, one hand still over her mouth. Pierce stepped closer to Schmidt. “You little German son of a bitch! You were never going follow through on our deal, were you! This was all just a way to get unlimited funding, to get a lab, so you could take the serum for yourself!”</p><p>Schmidt laughed. “Bravo, Mr. President! You have figured it out at last!”</p><p>Pierce looked around the room at the interns and the other scientists. “Don’t you see? He’s betrayed all of us. He brought you here under false pretenses, telling you that you would usher in a new era for the FSA, that you were aiding our war effort when the whole time, he was going to take this for himself! Your work, all your hard work, those late nights and countless hours, for this? For him? You’re telling me you’re okay with him subverting this entire project?”</p><p>An awkward, uncomfortable silence greeted his question. Steve folded his arms across his abdomen, instinctively protecting the potential life inside him. He had a bad feeling this wasn’t going to go the way Pierce wanted it to go at all.</p><p>Zola shrugged. “To be frank, Mr. President, they are very much ‘okay’ with it. You see, Dr. Schmidt is our leader. He always has been. We are but his loyal followers. The first of thousands. The first of millions. We have been working on this project, his vision, for decades. Your support and, more importantly, your funding, has been the last piece of this puzzle.” He smiled and bowed slightly. “Thank you for your support.”</p><p>“My support?” Pierce spit back. “My <em>support?!</em>” He turned an incredulous look back to the assembled scientists and interns. “You’re insane, Schmidt! I’ve got an entire army outside that will follow my every order. You won’t get away with this.”</p><p>“On the contrary, my dear Mr. President,” Schmidt said, shifting his weight, “but I already have.”</p><p>“This is getting ugly,” Bucky muttered. “Rumlow, maybe you’d better get Stevie out of here.” He steadied his sidearm with both hands, pointing the barrel several degrees away from anyone in particular. He was clearly prepared to aim it at any target and was just waiting for his orders.</p><p>Immediately, Rumlow put his arm across Steve’s body. “Get behind me, Stevie, and stay there,” he said, pushing gently and pulling out his own sidearm.</p><p>“What? No!” Steve wriggled and sidestepped Rumlow’s attempt to corral him back toward the outer room. Sure, things didn’t necessarily look safe, but he wasn’t going to let Bucky face them alone.</p><p>“This isn’t what I was paying you for!” Pierce was shouting. “This wasn’t our agreement!”</p><p>Schmidt smiled. “So what? Do I care what simple agreement I may have made with you years ago when I started down this path? Not one bit. I said what I needed to say,” he gestured at the Alphas around him, “hired the personnel I needed to hire, and fast-tracked my serum from concept to conclusion in six years. Now here I am, Homo Superior, the next step in Alpha evolution. How did the poet put it? Look upon my work, ye mighty, and despair!”</p><p>Steve never thought he’d be witness to an actual villain monologue in real life, but here he was. It was bizarre seeing Schmidt, who up until this moment had been afflicted with a disability that affected his gross motor skills, gesturing easily, standing unaided, taller and broader and stronger-looking than before. It was Schmidt’s voice and his face but how could this be his body? Was it real? Would it last? Were they witnessing the end of humanity as they’d come to know it?</p><p>Schmidt, still standing on the dais, towering over everyone in the room, laughed. “Pierce, you are so foolish, so easily led. You think you are the center of the universe and yet you are but a pawn in my master plan. You thought you would have control over a strike force of supermen. Instead, you shall bear witness as my army fills the vacuum that your failure leaves behind. We are the future, Mr. President. We are inevitable.”</p><p>“No. No!” Pierce straightened his suit coat as if it were armor.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Schmidt said. “Never have I felt more powerful. The dystrophy has been eradicated from my cells. My heart is pumping blood throughout my body. I can see and hear and smell everything. I can even smell the child growing in your Omega’s womb.” Schmidt grinned at Steve. “She’s a beautiful creature. I applaud your taste. Too bad she’s not carrying your spawn.”</p><p>Pierce couldn’t hide his sudden glance toward Natasha, who had arranged herself to sit more elegantly in a rolling chair. Her poise was probably too ingrained to express any similar surprise or dismay at the revelation. No one else in the room seemed to realize or care about the implications of Schmidt’s pronouncement. They just focused on typing things into their computers or waiting for their orders.</p><p>“Ah, of course, you knew that you could not seed her. That is why you hired these to stud,” Schmidt said, gesturing with his chin toward Rumlow and Bucky.</p><p>Steve glanced at Pierce, wondering how he was taking this callous dismissal of his virility. It didn’t seem to make any greater impact than anything else being said, though.</p><p>Schmidt took a step off the dais, his bare feet making no sound on the polished concrete floor. “You see, Alex – I may call you ‘Alex,’ surely? Alex, my plan was simple: get funding, perform the research, test the serum, then heal myself. The theory was sound. I already had that. Funding came from you and your silly Federated States of America plan. The research? Well, that’s what interns are for. Test subjects? Two hundred rats, all told. They lacked the mental capacity to withstand the transformation, but here I am.” He spread his hands. “Your superior in every way.”</p><p>“Superior?” Pierce scoffed. “You were nothing without my help. Nothing without me!”</p><p>“Not nothing,” Schmidt said, taking another step. “Just unfunded.”</p><p>Dr. Sterns lurched toward Schmidt, pointing at the floor. “Johann, you might want to be careful where you step.”</p><p>“What? What is –“ Schimdt looked down at his feet, then turned to stare at the dais. Several of the interns shrieked. Natasha leaned to one side, clearly trying to see around a computer monitor. Pierce’s face twisted in disgusted disbelief. Rumlow and Bucky exchanged a speaking look and Steve pushed forward, wanting to see clearly what he could only glimpse: a pair of red footprints on the dais, perfect outlines of Schmidt’s feet. Was he bleeding? How did he get wounded?</p><p>Schmidt started scratching at the back of his neck then stared at his hands. He rubbed his palms together and everyone watched as his skin rolled off his hands in large scraps. Schmidt ran his fingers roughly through his hair, pulling it out in huge chunks still attached to sections of his scalp. He cried out, a frustrated noise of anguish, as he peeled off more of his skin, sheets of it off his arms, shoulders. He ripped off his t-shirt so he could pull more off his chest and back, a pile of discarded, bloody skin forming at his feet.</p><p>Steve felt nauseous.</p><p>“This is incredible,” Zola said. He stepped closer to Schmidt to better peer at his body with scientific detachment and wonder. “Simply incredible.”</p><p>“What is?” Pierce asked, his distaste evident in the twist of his mouth.</p><p>“He is not bleeding. The red that remains, it is not blood. It appears to be some new sort of dermis layer.”</p><p>“That is correct, Dr. Zola,” Schmidt said. He rubbed his red palms across his red chest and face. “This is my skin now. This is who I truly am. This is the face of Homo superior alpha!”</p><p>One of the Beta interns cried out, “but, sir! Your nose!”</p><p>The look Schmidt sent her in return could have scorched. “That one is no longer needed,” he said. “Dispose of her.”</p><p>Killian shrugged. “Okay.” He lifted a pistol from under a table, pointed it and shot the intern in the chest. The <em>bang!</em> made Steve jump. The intern crumpled to the ground, her hands at her sides, blood blooming across her lab coat.</p><p>Cries of ‘shit!’ and ‘Andie!’ rang through the lab as Bucky and Rumlow immediately prepared to return fire on Schmidt. Pierce’s hands weren’t up in a surrendering gesture, exactly. He looked placating instead as he took a few steps backward.</p><p>“Johann,” Pierce said, his eyes darting around the room, “you can’t have been expecting this… this side-effect. Were you?”</p><p>Steve wanted to go to the wounded intern’s side, to help her in some way, but he knew it would be pointless. Someone was crouching beside her now, helping her lie more comfortably on the ground. That had to be enough. There wasn’t anything anyone could do to save her – medical help was much too far away. His only hope would be to prevent more injuries, more death, but how? What could he do to resolve the situation? He had nothing – no weapons, no training, barely even any clothing.</p><p>Schmidt shrugged. “It is the outward sign of my ultimate superiority,” he replied. He looked at his hands and forearms, turning them this way and that as if examining the uniformity of the hue. “What is skin color anyway? A meaningless division of the human population. All human skin is brown. Dark or light, it is all brown. I see that now. Were my skin to remain its previous pale tones, I should appear as any other Alpha. I should blend in. But I am beyond that now. I am superior to them now. To all of you. Why should I not look like it?”</p><p>Pierce seemed taken aback by Schmidt’s equanimous acceptance of his drastic alteration in appearance. For several seconds, no one spoke. Then Steve heard himself pipe up with, “Who’s going to help you create this new species? I expect you’ll have made yourself a list of Beta and Omega volunteers to go through the same process.”</p><p>Schmidt fixed his laser focus on Steve. It was unnerving; the man’s pupils seemed to be a red as his skin now was. “Why should I share this triumph with a Beta, much less an Omega?”</p><p>Steve swallowed hard. “Just wondering how you’re intending to make more. I mean, if the changes don’t take, you know, on a genetic level, from parent to child, how can it be anything other than an-an aberration? How can it be a new species if it doesn’t, um, breed true?” He forced a smile.</p><p>“Steve…?” Bucky half-whispered. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Schmidt’s eyes seemed to glitter now with interest. “A fair point. Are you volunteering, meine liebe?” He looked up and down Steve’s mostly-nude body. “Perhaps you would permit us to use your unborn child as a testing vehicle? Think of it. You could give birth to a new generation of superior humanity! You could be the new Eve!”</p><p>“Uh… not quite what I was-“ he began to say even as Schmidt barked out orders in German. Steve felt Rumlow’s hand fall hard upon his shoulder and he instinctively squirmed away, ducking under the confining grip. Bucky shouted. Guns started firing. Bullets pinged off concrete and metal. A lightbulb overhead flashed and went out. More of the interns screamed, began running for the exits. Steve stumbled and felt cold hands on his hips, pulling him further away from Rumlow’s anguished, angered expression.</p><p>“Stay down, damnit!” hissed a voice in his ear as he fell to the concrete floor.</p><p>Steve looked up in shock to see Natasha standing over him in a pugilistic pose, her fists pointed at Schmidt as tiny darts flew out from her otherwise unremarkable metal bracelets. Steve scrambled to his knees and crawled behind her discarded rolling chair as more fixtures burst above, showering the room in sparks of light. From the corner of his eye, he’d seen Schmidt easily leap over a computer bank, then use it for cover as he returned fire. Two of the Alpha interns were also calmly shooting toward Bucky and Rumlow while the others had successfully fled this section of the lab, including Pierce, who’d been pulled away somewhere, presumably by the federal officers.</p><p>Sterns and Zola were ignoring the firefight. They seemed to be focused on closing up laptops and sliding them into soft-sided briefcases and backpacks along with hard drives and other computer parts. Then Sterns opened a metal case and reached for a collection of capped test-tubes full of a glowing blue liquid. A second later, Sterns reared back, shouting in pain, his hands now full of blood, and the test-tubes shattered, the glowing liquid dripping off the counter to soak into the concrete floor below.</p><p>Bullets continued to ricochet around the room, pinging and glancing off the walls and the capsule and the light fixtures above. More glass broke. Monitors exploded. More sparks flew and several landed in the dripping blue liquid, found fuel and burst into white-hot flames that spread quickly across the tables.</p><p>Steve watched, alarmed, as Bucky leapt toward Sterns – no, toward the test-tubes. He grabbed at the remaining unbroken tubes and shoved them into his jacket pocket. This action was covered by him continuing to fire at Sterns, at Schmidt, at the others. The two remaining Alpha interns fell, wounded. Schmidt crouched behind the metal capsule. Steve could just see him reloading his weapon. Still standing, her fists outstretched, Natasha shouted, “It’s over, Schmidt! Stand down!”</p><p>“You only think it’s over, Frau Pierce,” Schmidt shouted back, “because you lack imagination! The Red Room has beaten it out of you. It is a pity. You could have been great. Auf Wiedersehen!” Then he stood up, aimed at Bucky and began firing as he backed out of the lab down a hallway. At the last moment, he grabbed bottle of liquid off a storage rack, tossed it toward the center of the room, aimed, fired. The bottle exploded into shards of glass and fluid that, immediately upon interaction with the nitrogen in the air, burst into flames, spattering everything with combusting chemicals.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Pierce shouted from the doorway of one of the side offices. “After him!” Black smoke began to fill the room as wires, bits of rubber, discarded lab coats and wounded flesh began to burn. With the lighting already dim from the shot-out fixtures above, the damaged computer monitors and the flickering flames, the presence of the oily black smoke further obscured visibility and made Steve’s nose and eyes sting.</p><p>From his position on his knees, Steve could see Bucky hesitate, his left arm still covering his head, while Rumlow advanced steadily on Sterns and Zola. Killian was gone, but Steve hadn’t seen where he’d gotten off to or even noticed when he’d left. Zola, closest to the hallway, followed after Schmidt, clutching a backpack in his arms. Sterns just put his bleeding hands up and smiled.</p><p>“You got me,” Sterns said to Rumlow. “I surrender.”</p><p>Rumlow put the barrel of his weapon against Sterns’s forehead. “Say the word, sir,” he said, pitching his voice to carry to the president.</p><p>Steve stood up behind Natasha. She seemed controlled instead of angry or frightened or confused, everything Steve himself was feeling. He was faced with a choice: leave now or stay with Bucky. He inhaled the acrid pungency of the smoke and instinctively backed up further, his hand over his nose and mouth. He needed to leap forward and yank Bucky away from the probably-toxic fumes, but his sense of self-preservation was fighting him.</p><p>There was general cursing and screaming now, as the fire in the lab began to spread.</p><p>“Why aren’t the sprinklers going off?” Steve shouted, peering up at the ceiling. “Where are the fire extinguishers?” He didn’t even see any of the familiar red canisters along the walls.</p><p>“This is old construction that isn’t even officially here,” Natasha snapped. “Get the fuck out!”</p><p>Bucky’s head turned and his eyes widened when he saw Steve. “Get out of here, Steve!” he shouted, waving toward the front of the lab. “Go now!”</p><p>Steve’s feet obeyed. He stumbled a little as he staggered through the bouts of smoke and flame toward the hallway. He looked down and saw the lifeless eyes of one of the federal police officers who’d accompanied them earlier, shot through the neck. Steve knelt beside him, touched his face, and then realized the Alpha’s head had almost been completely severed. He immediately stood back up, dismayed by the unexpected sight, and considered stepping over the body to find his own safety. Then he realized he’d have to get past Pierce who was cowering in an office doorway, his jacket over the lower part of his face, if he went that direction. Instead, he pivoted and headed the other way back toward the front of the lab. He’d taken maybe a half-dozen steps before strong, thick arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him off his feet to press against a muscular chest as he was rushed even faster toward the front of the lab, fresh air, safety. Back in the main hallway, he regained his feet. He turned and looked up as he said, “Thank you, B-“</p><p>A face twisted with burnt and burning flesh regarded him with hope and wonder. “You can call me Brock, baby,” he said. Then Rumlow took Steve’s upper arm and started pulling him further down the hall, away from the lab, away from the White House, away from Bucky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve's day just gets more chaotic. Thankfully, Bucky's right there with one goal in mind: escape from DC.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where are you taking me?” Steve panted as he hurried alongside Rumlow. Their footsteps echoed through the concrete passageway. “Where are we going?”</p><p>“Getting you to safety,” Rumlow said. They had gone right instead of left outside the laboratory doors. Rumlow kept his hand on Steve’s shoulder up by his neck, guiding him and urging him faster still.</p><p>“Didn’t we come from the other direction?”</p><p>“We’re not going back to the White House,” Rumlow replied. “Shit’s going down. You won’t be safe.”</p><p>“I won’t?” Steve braked abruptly. He’d been feeling his breath getting short but had hoped it was a normal result of panic and sudden physical exertion. He coughed and heard a slight, tell-tale wheeze. “What about everyone else? B-Brock, I’m going to have an asthma attack. I can feel it. I need my inhaler.” He coughed again and tried not to panic. His medication had been keeping his condition well under control but breathing in smoky fumes of unknown origin was bound to overwhelm his pharmaceutical regimen. He needed his inhaler but, more than that, he needed to get away from Rumlow and back to Bucky without making Rumlow suspicious. He glanced up at Rumlow, who had stopped just in front of him, and tried to look pathetic.</p><p>He was shocked at what he saw, now that he time to take a good look under decent lighting.</p><p>Rumlow was seriously damaged. Physically damaged. It seemed he’d been the main target of the burning chemical from the bottle Schmidt had shot. Mottled, burnt skin in a splash pattern bloomed over his face from his right cheek outward. The pattern covered his forehead over his scalp, along the entire right side of his head down to his jaw and mouth. Steve wasn’t sure Rumlow had any of his ear left. There were other splatter-burns across his neck and chest, over his arms and down to his thighs. The black tactical shirt he’d been wearing looked like it had fused to his skin where it hadn’t burned or melted away. Rumlow had holstered his sidearm and was reaching toward Steve with his uninjured hand.</p><p>“You don’t have it with you?”</p><p>Steve shook his head. “Where would I keep it?” He held out his arms indicating a distinct lack of pockets or hiding spots of any kind in his flimsy outfit. He tried not to flinch at the sight of Rumlow’s ravaged face and body. How was the man not screaming in agony? That chemical had been melting metal, how did it not hurt to melt human skin?</p><p>“Shit!” Rumlow glanced over his shoulder and then back down the hallway from where they’d come. “And there’s one back there in the Oval?”</p><p>“I don’t actually think so,” Steve said, a part of him fearing retribution for the negative information. “Just in my bathroom, I think.” There hadn’t been a reason to stash inhalers anywhere else. He’d never left the building unprepared except that one visit to Coulson’s, and he hadn’t even had any asthma attacks since before he’d left Brooklyn. He’d been growing out of the condition, thank God, but that obviously hadn’t meant he’d never have another attack ever. He coughed again, wheezing more loudly this time. “The fumes, I think,” he managed. He rubbed at his sternum. “I’m sorry,” he offered. It felt odd to make a big deal of an asthma attack, but anything that got him moving back toward Bucky was worth it.</p><p>“No, no,” Rumlow replied. “My fault. I should have…” He shook his head. “Where is it? Tell me exactly where it is, and I’ll get it for you.”</p><p>Steve waved away that idea. “No time,” he wheezed. “It’ll be faster if I go myself. Please, Brock.” He took a careful step backward, trying to make it seem unintentional. Nonchalant.</p><p>Rumlow stared at him for another two seconds, then relented. “Fine. We’ll both go,” he said. “But you stay with me.”</p><p>Steve nodded his head and followed him back down the tunnel.</p><p>**</p><p>Bucky chased after Schmidt into the depths of the lab. There wasn’t anywhere to go back there, Bucky knew. He’d been over the floorplan a dozen times, had toured the lab officially and unofficially. Further back there was just the chemistry lab, the small gym, the bathrooms, the storerooms, the tiny unfurnished bedrooms, the empty recreation room, the cut-outs for the doors to the unbuilt barracks, everything connecting to a wide, central hallway that Bucky was stalking down as carefully and as swiftly as he could. He heard footsteps coming up behind him and glanced over his shoulder, dismayed to realize Pierce and Natasha were following him.</p><p>“Sir,” he said, acknowledging Pierce with a respectful nod. “Do you know where they’re going?”</p><p>“There’s nothing back here,” Pierce replied confidently, confirming Bucky’s knowledge. “They’re just holing up somewhere. You’ll find them, Colonel. Keep looking.”</p><p>“Yes, sir!” Bucky continued to visually clear each room with an unlocked door. He didn’t have time for a more thorough search, and it was unlikely he’d miss anyone trying to hide in an empty space. He heard a noise from up ahead of him, the clang of metal on metal. He picked up the pace, his weapon at the ready, only to reach the end of the hallway.</p><p>There was nothing.</p><p>Well, not exactly nothing. There was an old metal cabinet standing about seven feet tall at the hallway terminus, rusting around the little lock, shiny and smooth around the hinges of the doors that stretched up to the ceiling. Bucky barely had to think about it before he yanked open the doors.</p><p>“Fucking hell,” he muttered. He shouldered into the empty space and looked up, up, up a ventilation shaft, rungs evenly spaced up one side. Way at the top, maybe fifty meters or so above him, he saw a figure climbing out of the shaft into open air, a disk of blue sky. He thought it might be Zola. Bucky took aim and fired, certain a moment later he’d hit something vital since the figure twisted backward and fell out of view. Bucky swiftly holstered his weapon, then jumped up and grabbed a rung. He started climbing the ladder, focused on getting to the surface and continuing to give chase. He heard Pierce shouting at him from below, but he kept his eyes up. He couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, frightened, possibly injured, not possessing enough self-preservation to get himself to safety. Himself and his baby. God, he thought to himself, what was in that bottle that Schmidt threw into the room and shot? Most of it hit Rumlow, but enough of it splashed onto his left arm that he still felt it burning. He was just grateful he’d kept it off his face. But was Steve all right? Rumlow had gone after him. Rumlow would keep Steve safe. Right?</p><p>Above him, about ten meters away now, a red skull appeared in the circle of blue sky.</p><p>“Excellent, Col. Barnes!” Schmidt shouted. “I admire your spirit! Alas, you strive in vain. Perhaps I shall see you again one day. Perhaps you will not make it out alive.”</p><p>“…the fuck?” Bucky muttered. Schmidt closed the lid of the ventilation shaft. Something clunked into place, like a locking mechanism. It took several seconds before Bucky’s eyesight adjusted to the lack of daylight. He was ten meters away. Five meters. He reached up and felt the underside of the shaft termination cap. He put his hands on the locking wheel. It was jammed into place. How could he get this open and follow-?</p><p>Then he heard the ticking and saw the tiny digital clock counting down from 2:47, 2:46, 2:45…</p><p>**</p><p>It seemed no time at all before Steve and Rumlow were passing the windowless lab door. Whatever was going on in there, no evidence of it was spilling out into the corridor. The interns who had managed to survive or escape the conflict and flee were long gone and no help seemed to be coming toward them, either. Rumlow was just guiding Steve around the far turn toward the White House basement offices when they heard from behind them shouting, rapid footsteps, and then Bucky’s voice ordering, “Shut it! Shut it!”</p><p>“Wait!” Steve twisted away from Rumlow’s hand and hurried back toward the lab.</p><p>“Stevie! Your asthma!” Rumlow reached for him but missed as Steve stumbled through the corridor, coughing and wheezing. “Damnit, Stevie!”</p><p>Up ahead, Steve saw Bucky, which made him happy, and Natasha, which did not. Their faces were streaked with soot and Natasha’s hair had definitely been mussed. “What happened?” he choked out, waving an arm as if he needed movement to draw their attention. He and Rumlow were the only other two in the hallway. They were pretty hard to miss.</p><p>“Steve?” Bucky rushed toward him, eyes wide. He put his hands on Steve’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “What’s going on? Are you all right? Did you get hit with any of that acid?” He turned Steve around in a circle to check, then swiped his fingertips across Steve’s cheek just below his eye.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Steve wheezed. He reached up toward Bucky, took hold of his biceps, and grinned. “Just having an asthma attack. No big deal. You?” He felt the shirt on Bucky’s right arm, but his left arm felt different. He tilted his head to look at it, but Bucky pulled away.</p><p>“The fuck?” Bucky stared at him. “Can’t you die from that?” He turned as Rumlow approached.</p><p>Steve shrugged and would have answered except Rumlow and Natasha were right there, too. He moved again so he could see Bucky’s other arm, the shirt sleeve torn to ribbons, and the blistered skin that was revealed.</p><p>“I’m trying to get her to her rooms,” Rumlow said. He laid a proprietary hand on Steve’s shoulder, right near his neck, just above Bucky’s fingers. “She’s got an inhaler there, she says.”</p><p>“Shit!” Natasha cursed. She crowded in on Steve, too, glaring at him, not looking at Rumlow. “Did you breathe in the fumes? Are you feeling dizzy or nauseous?”</p><p>Steve shook his head, barely remembering not to look her in the eye, confused by her suddenly flat accent. “No, ma’am,” he said automatically. He almost took a step backward, remembering his place, not wanting to risk her wrath on top of everything else, except Rumlow was right there, crowding him. He did not want to stand closer to Rumlow, not when Bucky was an option. Bucky didn’t seem to be feeling his wounds, either, but maybe he was fine? The baby was fine, after all. Wasn’t it? He rubbed at his abdomen. How would he even know, at this stage? Was that pain in his side a stitch from running, a side-effect of the asthma, or something worse and all-too familiar?</p><p>“Where’s the boss? And Sterns? The others?” Rumlow asked. “Did they get out already?”</p><p>Natasha and Bucky exchanged a look. Bucky nodded his head while Natasha shook hers, then they swapped gestures in confusion. “They’re both still in there,” Natasha said. “They could have taken shelter in the offices. You should go look. I’ll get Stevie to safety.”</p><p>“I’m taking care of Stevie.” Rumlow adjusted his grip on Steve’s neck and tugged him back a step. Steve was initially hurt but hoped Bucky just didn’t want to use Steve as the rope in a tug-of-war with Rumlow.</p><p>“Stevie’s my family,” Natasha said, a threatening undercurrent in her tone. “I’ll take care of her. And my baby. Go find my husband. Your boss.”</p><p>Rumlow slowly let go of the back of Steve’s neck. “Yes, ma’am.” He unholstered his sidearm and checked the safety before approaching the swinging door. “Stevie? I’ll be back soon.”</p><p>Steve nodded, then offered, “Be careful, Brock.”</p><p>Rumlow threw a pleased smile at him before punching in his code on the numbered keypad beside the door. The panel failed to light up or respond. Rumlow frowned, hesitated, then grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. He took a step, then stopped while greasy black smoke curled out along the ceiling. “The hell-? You closed the vault door? I thought that thing was fused – fuck! You <em>left</em> Pierce in there!” He stared wild-eyed at Bucky and Natasha.</p><p>“We must to save ourselves, Commander!” Natasha said, her Russian accent in full force. “The president ordered us to safety. Door is shut, not locked. It will open. Twist the handle. Go now!”</p><p>Rumlow glowered at her but entered the small entry room without further protest. The door swung closed behind him. Steve waited, but neither Natasha nor Bucky moved a step. They seemed to be expecting something. For Rumlow to return with Pierce and… the other scientists, maybe? What happened to them? Shouldn’t they be out in the hallway, too?</p><p>“Holy shit,” Bucky muttered. He turned to Natasha. “He was drenched in that acid and didn’t seem to feel it. I got some on my arm and it still burns like shit. How is he standing?” He reached over and tore off the shreds of fabric dangling from the tac shirt’s yoke. His skin was angry, blistering red, but still not mottled or melted like Rumlow’s. Bizarrely, all Steve could think of now was getting some Neosporin on Bucky’s wounds as quick as possible.</p><p>“Figure it out later,” Natasha said, waving an impatient hand at him. “Let’s finish this.” She darted through the swinging door. Bucky followed her, so Steve followed Bucky. Natasha was pushing on the heavy vault door, trying to close the two-foot gap Brock had created to get into the lab. Through the opening, Steve could see fire flickering on various surfaces, in the skeletons of the computer equipment, along fallen ceiling tiles. Smoke filled the upper third of the room and crept toward them. Disconnected wires sparked and popped. He heard a distant shout. Something oily and rotten tainted the air. Steve bunched up his flimsy capelet and used it as a makeshift filter to cover his nose and mouth. His eyes stung and he blinked to clear them.</p><p>Steve was horrified. “You’re not – you’re not <em>trapping</em> them in there, are you? You can’t! They need our help!” He saw Bucky hesitate and look to Natasha.</p><p>“Keep pushing, Barnes!” she growled. “Forget them, Stevie,” she shouted. “Pierce is dead and if we don’t get out of DC, we’re going to be dead, too. It’s over.”</p><p>Steve had so many questions, he couldn’t even figure where to start asking them. How was Pierce dead? What about Rumlow? What about the scientists – about Schmidt? Did the interns get out safely? Shouldn’t they tell people what happened? Why would he, or Bucky, or Natasha be in trouble? They didn’t cause any of this.</p><p>The door itself was about eighteen inches thick with levers and deadbolts and gears along the edge. Natasha was pushing on it with all her strength and weight, Bucky straining right beside her until they closed the door. It sealed tight with an odd sucking sound followed by the muffled slide of gears fitting into place. All sound from the lab was more than muted, it was completely shut off. Bucky twisted the handwheel. It spun freely.</p><p>“Forget that!” Natasha said. She had picked up a flagpole which had heretofore been hidden behind the open vault door. She yanked the flag-less shaft free of the base and dropped it to the floor with an echoing clang. Steve watched as she picked up the thick circular base, twisted it apart, then placed one of the resulting disks at the bottom corner of the vault door and handed the other one to Bucky. “As high as you can,” she told him, “close to the edge. Like mine.”</p><p>Bucky nodded and placed the disk about eight feet off the ground. Natasha kicked her disk and motioned for him to strike his. He jumped a little and punched it with his fist. The disks flashed once, twice, and then remained dark.</p><p>“You have a great deal of explaining to do, Mrs. Pierce,” Bucky said. He moved himself to stand in between her and Steve.</p><p>“Hey, if you couldn’t figure it out before now, I don’t know what to tell you,” she replied, all trace of Russian accent gone again. “Colonel Barnes, we need to go. We don’t know if there’s another way out or even if Rumlow can find it.”</p><p>Steve stepped out from behind Bucky’s protection. “What’s going on? Where is Mister – uh, the president – uh, him? And did you really just seal up Rumlow in that…” He flailed his hand at the lab. “And the others? What happened to them? Shouldn’t we – don’t we have to tell people? Warn them?”</p><p>Natasha shot a look Steve couldn’t interpret, but he thought it might be irritation. “Need to know. Dead. Yes. Got away. We’ll be on the hook for all of it if we don’t get out of town now. Barnes, I’m taking Stevie with me,” she said. “You can find your own way out.” As if further questions were unimportant, and in her mind, they probably were, she grabbed Steve’s upper arm and started dragging him back into the hallway, toward the White House.</p><p>“Get moving, Barnes!” Natasha said over her shoulder. “That way is the OEOB. No locks, no security on this side. Go up the stairs, through the double doors, and follow the signs to the lobby. I have Stevie.”</p><p>“Bucky!” Steve tried to pull away from her, but her grip was iron, bruising.</p><p>“Come on, Stevie. There’s no more time.”</p><p>“Where are you taking him?” Bucky asked, hurrying to catch up to them.</p><p>“We can’t just leave them in there!” Steve cried out, resisting Natasha’s pull. He was still wheezing, but at least it hadn’t gotten any worse. Maybe it would pass on its own? Sometimes the attacks passed on their own. Another cough forced its way out of him. In comparison to everything else going on, though, it scarcely mattered.</p><p>“Forget it. Come on, Stevie. We have a boat to catch.” Natasha shifted her grip on Steve’s shoulder just as Bucky got in front of them and stopped, blocking their path.</p><p>“You’re not taking him anywhere,” Bucky said. “Not if he doesn’t want to go.”</p><p>“I agree with Bucky,” Steve said. “How about I stay with him?” He rubbed at his sternum, certain he could feel the tension in his lungs easing with every moment.</p><p>“We don’t have time to argue,” Natasha said firmly. “Be smart, Barnes. Once they figure out Pierce is gone, Stevie won’t be safe in DC. As long as no one knows anything’s different, she is protected. She needs to get out of here before they catch on or she’ll take the fall for Pierce's death. My exit strategy is in place and I’ve got room for one more. Does yours account for dead weight?”</p><p>Bucky took a step closer to her, using his size to intimidate. “Well, for one thing,” he said, “he’s not ‘dead weight.’ For another, I was always planning on taking him with me.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to respond.</p><p>“Which doesn’t matter,” he said, talking over whatever she was going to say, “since I don’t think either of us trust you.”</p><p>She folded her arms. “You were not planning on taking her anywhere. You didn’t expect any of this to happen any more than I did, much less this soon. We’re being forced to improvise. You should face it: I’m better at it than you are.”</p><p>“You don’t know what I’ve been planning.”</p><p>“And you don’t even know who I am,” she shot back, “or you’d be glad to let me take her off your hands.”</p><p>“He is not a burden,” Bucky said with a growl.</p><p>“She is my family,” Natasha shot back, her hands now on her hips.</p><p>“You mean he’s an obligation,” Bucky replied. “For all I know, you’d shove him in front of the firing squad just to save your own hide.”</p><p>She closed her eyes with a pained expression. “What you know wouldn’t fill an eyedropper.”</p><p>Steve’s heart was thudding painfully, and he wasn’t certain it was entirely due to the asthma. It sure sounded like Bucky cared about him as more than simply the Omega he’d been forced to have sex with and then used to get an inside track. Just the same, it sure didn’t sound like Natasha thought of him as anything worthwhile. Maybe he was just hearing what he wanted to hear. He was pregnant and bonded to the most powerful Alpha in the free world. Maybe Bucky really just wanted him for leverage. Maybe Natasha did, too. Maybe that’s all he had going for him, the only thing that was going to keep him alive: the baby growing inside him. Pierce’s baby, officially. Legally.</p><p>It was all terribly confusing. He needed to think. Problem was, he hadn’t had to rely on his brain for anything more complicated than idle conversation and blind obedience for months. There was an answer here; he knew it. The right thing to do was right in front of him. He just couldn’t see it.</p><p>Then they heard a muffled boom, like distant thunder, through the wall of the corridor closest to the lab. Steve felt the concrete tremble slightly beneath his feet. The light fixture above them swayed the tiniest bit. The three of them looked at each other.</p><p>“That tears it,” Natasha declared. “There’s no time to argue about this anymore. Colonel Barnes, if you want her safe, she comes with me.”</p><p>“Then I’m coming with you, too.”</p><p>She pressed her lips together, fixed him with a searching glare, then nodded her head. “Fine. You come as far as you can. Then we’ll see about this ‘obligation’ nonsense.” Bucky agreed to her terms with a sharp nod. She took a deep breath, rolled her eyes again, and grabbed Steve’s upper arm, dragging him along with her once more. “Keep up, Colonel Barnes, and hope to hell you don’t get in my way.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>**</p><p>It thankfully wasn’t the worst asthma attack Steve had ever had. It still felt good when he took his second hit off the inhaler, though. He listened close as he shook the device, making sure he had plenty of medication left. It was strange to be upstairs at the White House, everything normal, sun shining through the bulletproof windows. The maid had been through; fresh towels had been laid out on the edge of the tub. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend the entire morning hadn’t happened.</p><p>But it had. He opened his eyes and saw Bucky, his expression soft with worry as he watched Steve. “Thanks, Buck,” he said, making a decision he thought he could live with. “Whatever your plan is, I can help. I won’t be a burden.”</p><p>The skin along Bucky’s throat flushed dark. “You’ll never be a burden to me–“</p><p>“Oh, for God’s sake! Stuff it!” Natasha hissed at them, reminding them she was in the bathroom with them. She tossed into the sink the damp towel she’d been using to wipe their faces clean of soot. “He’s got the inhaler. We don’t look like we’ve been through a fire. I still need to secure my insurance. Move it!”</p><p>They followed her through Steve’s room into the president’s bedroom where Natasha grabbed one of Pierce’s jogging hoodies. She tossed it at Bucky. “Your shirt is torn and your arm looks like crap,” she said. “Cover up.” Then she pushed Steve on through Pierce’s sitting room, then her sitting room, and then into her very pink bedroom. Bucky had apparently never seen it before because he stopped as soon as his boots hit the carpet of fluffy pink fur.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “It’s like the Easter Bunny threw up in here.”</p><p>Steve smirked in response. He watched as Natasha disappeared into her walk-in closet, resolutely keeping his attention away from the bed… which Bucky sat down on.</p><p>“Nice mattress,” he said, smoothing a hand over the pink bedcovering. “Memory foam, you think?” He bounced up and down a few times before taking off his tactical armor-vest-thing Steve really needed to know the name of, revealing the compression shirt underneath, one sleeve still intact. He slipped on the grey hoodie and zipped it up halfway.  </p><p>“Uh, yeah. Maybe?” He shrugged, then added to make conversation, “It’s not the same as the president’s, anyway.”</p><p>“It’s not?” Bucky asked with a small frown. Then his eyes widened, and he stood up again. “Oh. I see. Sorry.”</p><p>Steve shook his head. “I guess I have some things to tell you.” Strong emotion kept his head down, but whether it was shame or guilt or the nearness of Natasha Pierce, he couldn’t have said.</p><p>“Please don’t think that,” Bucky said. “Nothing you were forced to do has any impact on my feelings.”</p><p>Steve flashed him a hopeful smile and Natasha walked out of the closet. She was now wearing a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers and carrying a leather jacket. Slung over one shoulder was a medium-sized, high-end leather backpack-style purse. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a hat off her dresser. “We get it,” she said, “your love is pure. Let’s go.”</p><p>“Why can’t he change into street clothes?” Bucky asked. “You got to.”</p><p>Natasha stared at him. “She doesn’t have any street clothes.”</p><p>“He.”</p><p>She clearly rolled her eyes behind the sunglasses. “Fine. He. Still doesn’t have any. Let’s go.”</p><p>“You’re practically the same size,” Bucky said. “Let him borrow something. He’ll stand out more dressed like an odalisque than in jeans and a t-shirt. They’ll recognize him immediately. Wonder why he’s leaving the White House without being hooded.”</p><p>She worked her jaw, clearly frustrated, and blew out a short breath. “Be quick. Casual clothes on the right in the back.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Steve said, then hurried to take full advantage of regular clothing for the first time in over a year.</p><p>Natasha’s closet was deeper than he’d expected and included a small dressing table. In the back, on the right, just as she promised, was a stack of designer jeans and a variety of casual blouses and shirts. It was the work of a moment to strip off the capelet, bandeau and panty, then two moments to grab a pair of silk underwear from the very back of Natasha’s lingerie drawer. Borrowed was better than none, and he assumed the underwear in the back were probably worn less often. The Beta-style underwear lacked the usual extra ‘give’ in the cocklet area that Omega underwear had, but it would do for the time being. It still felt heavenly to have his whole ass covered.</p><p>The jeans fit him pretty well in the hips and thighs. They were maybe an inch too long, but Steve figured he could just cuff them. Using the same logic as with the underwear, he dug under the stack of t-shirts to the bottom-most one, unsurprised to find himself with a pink t-shirt, silk-screened with a yellow and white flower across one side. It had a scoop neck and cap sleeves and came all the way down his hips. He loved it.</p><p>He used a hairbrush off the dressing table, twisted his hair into a low ponytail secured by a rubber hair tie, then checked the First Lady’s shoe collection for another pair of sneakers. To his delight, he found a pair of slip-on Vans in a cheerful blue and white check pattern that was exactly his size. He noticed several different style coats and jackets hanging together. He pulled a navy blue hoodie off its hangar and slipped it on. It was soft, loose and roomy. Feeling more like himself than he had in ages, he joined the other two in the bedroom.</p><p>“Wow,” was Bucky’s succinct response. He blinked as if to dispel a vision then added, “you look amazing.”</p><p>“Oh, sure, you took that one,” was Natasha’s comment. “Pierce bought me that t-shirt on vacation in Hilton Head.”</p><p>“Did you wear it a lot?” Bucky asked.</p><p>“Not even once,” Natasha said. “I actually despise pink.”</p><p>Uncertain, Steve looked down at the floor. “I thought it was kind of pretty.”</p><p>“You look beautiful,” Bucky assured him. “But we really should get moving.”</p><p>“Finally,” Natasha muttered.</p><p>**</p><p>Walking out of the White House through the West Wing was unnerving. They couldn’t sneak around and use the back stairs, like they did coming up from the basement. Instead, they had to take the main hallway and blend in. Per Natasha’s lead, Bucky and Steve kept their heads up and eyes front as they strode past the offices without pause. Luckily, no one challenged them; no one even seemed to notice them. Instead, the staffers seemed to be either rushing about or fixated on their computers or notepads, shouting at each other or whispering in the corners. It was all business as usual.</p><p>They followed Natasha into the parking area where the privileged people and the First Family got to leave their cars. The vast majority of the staff were required to use public transportation or park elsewhere and walk onto the grounds; very few people were permitted to park onsite. This lot held about ten cars at any given time and was bordered on three sides by tall hedges save for the lone entry point.</p><p>Natasha led them confidently to a black Lincoln town car with presidential plates. She clicked the button on the key ring, the car security system beep-booped as the doors unlocked, and she gestured for them to get in. It was all going smoothly, so of course it had to fall apart. Steve heard a commotion on the other side of the hedge and went to investigate. He found a thin place in the branches and peeked through. A moment later, Steve hissed, “That’s Angie! Buck, we have to save her!”</p><p>Bucky’s gut was telling him to save Steve and to Hell with everyone else, but Steve was right. Angie didn’t deserve to be left to be tortured. Even if the war ended in a week, it probably wouldn’t be soon enough to spare her. He ignored Natasha’s protest and forced himself through the same thin spot in the hedge, his weapon ready in his hand.</p><p>“Hold it right there!” he ordered, taking aim at the nearer of the two federal officers grappling with Angie. She was securely bound with full leather muzzle-style restraints and metal cuffs, but the officers were still having trouble forcing her into the back of their van.</p><p>“Relax, Rambo,” one of the officers said. “We got a declaration for this traitor, signed by the president himself, so back off.”</p><p>“I’m going to have to insist you let her into my custody,” Bucky said evenly. He steadied his aim at the closer officer’s throat just above his standard-issue flak vest. He noted Angie’s black eye, swollen lip, and the smears of blood around her jaw. He thought she might be drugged; she didn’t seem to notice what was going on as she hung loosely between the two officers.</p><p>“That ain’t going to happen,” the officer replied. “We got orders. This one’s not getting reprieved.”</p><p>Bucky heard rustling behind him and then Natasha was standing just in front of him to one side. “Boys,” she said, “just let her go. The president has changed his mind.”</p><p>The officers exchanged uneasy looks. The first one reached for his walkie-talkie and said into it, “Alpha-Papa-3 reporting in. We have a situation unfolding in the security parking area. Send back-“</p><p>
  <em>Thunk!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thunk!</em>
</p><p>As fast as Bucky could reconcile what he was seeing happen in front of him, it was over. Both federal officers were dead on the ground, an arrow sticking out of each man’s right eye. Bucky resecured his sidearm and rushed toward Angie. Somehow, Steve was right there, too, and together they found the keys to her cuffs and restraints on one of the dead officers and released her from bondage. As Steve tried to figure out if Angie were drugged or just in shock, Bucky turned to Natasha, ready to snark at her for her lack of assistance.</p><p>He saw her standing a couple feet away staring up at the White House roof, shading her eyes with one hand and grinning. Bucky turned to see what she was looking at. There was a masked Alpha up there waving back at them, in leather and Kevlar holding a compound bow in one hand. He saluted Bucky. Bucky slowly saluted back, and the archer backed up and disappeared.</p><p>“Who is that guy?” he asked Natasha.</p><p>“An old friend,” she replied.</p><p>“How is he just wandering around up there? Don’t we have a security team?”</p><p>She grinned at him, uncomplicated, happy and maybe the first authentic expression he’d ever seen on her face. “We do now.” Then she turned to the Omegas. “How’re you feeling, Angie? You going to make it?”</p><p>“Ma’am,” she replied. “I, uh… is this real?”</p><p>“It’s real,” Steve said, rubbing Angie’s upper arms. “We’re rescuing you. We’re all being rescued, I guess.”</p><p>Angie frowned slightly. “I thought…I saw Peggy?” Her head bobbed. “It’s all so fuzzy.”</p><p>Natasha stepped forward and took Angie’s face in her hands. “Stay with me, Angie. You’re safe now.”</p><p>The walkie-talkies on the dead officers were squawking in unison, “Alpha-Papa-3! Alpha-Papa-4! Come in! Respond! All available units report to security parking on the double. Prisoner transport in progress. Possible escape attempt.”</p><p>“Shit,” Bucky said. “Mrs. Pierce, we’ve got to go.”</p><p>“Yeah, I heard that,” she said. “Let’s take their van. The sirens will get us through traffic and we’ll be able to monitor their pursuit on the radio.”</p><p>“Copy that,” Bucky said, already retrieving the car keys from one of the dead officers. “Everybody in.”</p><p>By virtue of getting there first, Bucky drove. Getting off White House grounds while a lockdown was being initiated was simple, as long as a person drove a police van and slipped through the oddly unmanned gate. Once they got onto the city streets, Natasha navigated from the front passenger seat while Steve tried to help Angie come out of whatever drug or shock induced mental state she was in. Bucky ignored Steve’s attempts to soothe her and focused on Natasha’s curt instructions as they maneuvered through midday DC traffic.</p><p>“This city’s about to be put under siege,” Bucky said. “What’s with all this traffic? Why isn’t everyone leaving?”</p><p>“That’s what happens when no one believes the media,” Natasha explained with a smirk. “No one believes the media.”</p><p>He cast her a look. “You know, that’s mostly due to your husband. You want to explain what’s really going on?”</p><p>“Hey,” she said, lifting her hands in a classic ‘innocent’ gesture, “you can’t figure it out yourself, I’m not sure my explanation is going to make sense to you.”</p><p>“Just spill it.” He saw an opening in the lane to his right and merged suddenly. He waited for the irritated horn of the car behind him, then remembered he was driving a police van. No one was going to risk his road rage. He began to drive more recklessly.</p><p>They’d turned the radio down a bit so they could talk more easily. The further they got away from the White House, the safer they felt. According to the conversations on the police band, the federal police had found the dead officers in the parking lot, but also the dead or incapacitated officers on the roof. They were now chasing someone through the White House grounds, someone with a bow and arrow. Bucky wondered if it was just the one archer that he’d seen on the roof. It almost seemed like too much chaos for one man to cause.</p><p>“I work for the same organization you do,” Natasha said after a moment. “SHIELD.”</p><p>“You do not.” They would have told him. Wouldn’t they? Coulson would have said something. Did Coulson even know?</p><p>“Long-term, deep undercover. I’ve been providing strategic intel to the US ever since I was put into Pierce’s path five years ago.” She shrugged. “In my bag is a copy of everything I managed to get on Project Rebirth, Project Insight and Project Hellstorm.”</p><p>“The fuck are those? Insight and Hellstorm?” He merged left and then right again, jockeying for position as he maneuvered their way toward the river.</p><p>“Insight is an algorithm that uses predictive analytics of existing data to determine the probable future political affiliations of specific individuals, as well as their loyalty to a specific regime or ideal. Hellstorm was Pierce’s plan to take over the world through blackmail, subterfuge, and constant surveillance. Turn right up ahead. Get ready to stop. We’re not going all the way to the marina, but we are going to the water.”</p><p>“…okay.” Bucky would have to think about all that some more, but later. Project Insight sounded useful, amazing if it worked, but ultimately terrifying. Predictive analytics? And then taking over the world, but secretly? That sounded close to what Steve had been talking about in the Beta bathroom a couple weeks ago. Sending in overpowered individuals to destabilize governments, infiltrate security organizations, carry out assassinations and take hostages all sounded like Hollywood, but it also seemed like something Pierce could accomplish, given the right personnel. He almost had the right personnel, Bucky realized. He swallowed hard. Should he be thanking Schmidt for jumping the gun on Rebirth and taking the serum for himself?</p><p>“Turn in here,” Natasha said. “Shut the engine. This is where we get out.” Her hand on the door, she faced Bucky. “Take Angie to safety. There’s a bakery in Alexandria.” She rattled off an address. “Go to the delivery entrance around back. Tell them Black Widow sent you and they’ll take care of the rest. They’ll keep you both safe.”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa,” Bucky said. “Not so fast. What about Steve?”</p><p>“I’m taking Stevie,” she replied. She called over her shoulder. “This is where we get out! Let’s move.”</p><p>The van door slid open and both Omegas stepped out. Bucky rushed around back of the van, scanning the sky for pursuit. Everything seemed clear, safe. They’d stopped in a small clearing, just large enough for a vehicle to pull in and be hidden from easy view from the road. The banks of the Potomac were a couple meters away. Tied up, hidden by bushes, was a Seadoo built for two. Natasha’s exit strategy was becoming clearer.</p><p>“Take Angie instead,” Steve was saying. He was standing on the grassy gravel beside the van, facing off against Natasha. Angie sat in the open doorway of the van. In the afternoon light, her bruising stood out even more than before and she was cradling her right arm in her left hand. It looked like Steve had been trying to clean the blood off her face. “She needs medical attention.”</p><p>“If Colonel Barnes can get her to the bakery in Alexandria,” she ground out, “like I just said, then they’ll get her to a doctor.”</p><p>“Take her to this boat you mentioned. She’ll get to a doctor that much quicker.”</p><p>“You’re the vulnerable one,” Natasha said. “I need to get you out of here.”</p><p>Steve took a step back. “I’m not more important than Angie,” he said. “I’m perfectly fine. You don’t know what they did to her while they ‘interrogated’ her. I don’t think letting her stay alone with an Alpha will help her in any way. Besides, you actually like her.” He paused, then added, “And I don’t think I trust you to look after me.”</p><p>Bucky stepped up close behind Steve, physically offering his support by laying a hand lightly on his shoulder. “He’s right about Angie. She needs a doctor ASAP. How soon can you get her to one? Because it’s at least an hour to this bakery in Alexandria.”</p><p>Natasha worked her jaw. “Twenty minutes. But she needs to be able to stay on the Seadoo.”</p><p>Steve shrugged. “Cuff her.” Off Natasha’s blank look, he explained, “Put her arms around your waist and cuff her wrists. She’ll stay put because you’ll stay put. Why are we arguing about this? I don’t want to go with you and Angie needs to.”</p><p>Bucky didn’t think Betas could growl threateningly, but Natasha managed it just fine. Nevertheless, she acceded in the interest of expediency. Together, they got the Seadoo unmoored and placed a groggy Angie on it behind Natasha. They cuffed Angie’s wrists in place and Natasha kicked the motor into gear. Bucky and Steve watched as they sped south down the Potomac and out of view.</p><p>“So,” Bucky said brightly. “Bakery in Alexandria?”</p><p>In response, Steve wrapped Bucky in his arms. He nodded. “I could do with something to eat.”</p><p>**</p><p>As they headed toward the bridge over the Potomac leading to Alexandria, Steve realized something was off about the commentary on the police band radio. “You can’t go from the Map Room into the Vermeil Room,” he said. “There’s two whole other rooms in between. And weren’t they supposed to be in the West Wing a second ago?”</p><p>Bucky shot him a nervous look. “Fuck,” he said, twisting the radio dial. “This isn’t the only frequency. Fuck!” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel.</p><p>
  <em>…in! move in! Go! Go!... I’ve got a runner! …Stay down! Stay! Down!... Blue-Two this is Blue-Six. We’ve got the manager. Bringing him out now… Blue-One this is Blue-Five. We found a hidden room. Looks like medical supplies, food and water, a bed. This was definitely a safe house. There’s no one here. Repeat. We found a hidden room. No suspects…This is Red Alpha. Copy that, Blue-Five. Blue Team, secure the area. Follow your orders. Rumlow out….</em>
</p><p>“Rumlow?” Steve said, a sick feeling in his gut. He cradled his abdomen with both hands. He tried to feel relieved Rumlow was still alive, that he’d survived being shut up in the lab, but relief wasn’t happening. “Where do you think they really are?” Absurdly, he started checking the sideview mirror, half expecting to see Rumlow’s car riding up alongside them, ready to knock them off the road and take Steve back to – somewhere. Not the White House. Pierce was dead. Wasn’t he?</p><p>“Fuck!” Bucky said. “Think, damnit, think.” Steve glanced over and saw Bucky work his jaw before reaching over to the GPS unit that had been retrofitted to the dash and tear it off its housing. With his other hand, he hit the button to roll down the window and then chucked the GPS unit onto the street. It smashed into pieces before being run over by a minivan. “Hang on,” he said. At the last moment, just before they were committed to crossing the bridge, Bucky cut across two lanes of traffic onto an offramp and a hairpin turn. The tires squealed, but they stayed on the road.</p><p>Steve adjusted his safety belt and tried to breathe normally. That had definitely been Rumlow’s voice on the radio giving orders. He was ‘Red Alpha.’ It was completely possible that the Alexandria bakery safe house had been compromised, but how had they gotten there first? Even as he asked himself that, however, he saw movement up in the air. A helicopter was flying low across the water toward Alexandria: a black helicopter with a circular icon on the door.</p><p>Bucky had seen it, too. He grimaced and leaned forward a little, as if he could make the traffic in front of them disappear through sheer force of will.</p><p>Maybe he should have gone with Natasha. But then, Bucky would be stuck in the van with Angie, needing to get to a doctor and no good plan anymore to accomplish that. Assuming Natasha’s exit strategy was foolproof, of course. She might have run into trouble. She would have had to go under the bridge that Bucky had been about to drive over. Would she have been spotted by the helicopter? Did they know to look for her? Or was a Seadoo too small a target to spy from the air? And how far out did they have to go to get to the boat she mentioned? Did they have enough gas?</p><p>Stop it, Rogers, he told himself. He needed to stop worrying about things he had no possible way to control and refocus on the problem right in front of him. Angie was Natasha’s responsibility. Natasha may be cold and calculating, but Steve didn’t think she’d give up Angie just to save herself. She said she was a SHIELD agent. Even Steve, who’d grown up in the FSA system, knew SHIELD was supposed to mean something. But she was still Natasha Pierce, and that meant something entirely different to Steve.</p><p>Several tense minutes later, Bucky pulled over into a small shopping center parking lot. They got out of the van. Steve stretched his legs while Bucky quickly surveyed their surroundings.</p><p>“Let’s go,” Bucky said, taking Steve by the hand. “It’s not far.”</p><p>“What’s not far?”</p><p>“My place. It’s just up ahead. We can talk there.”</p><p>They had to cross the road and walk another block to get to the entrance to a decent-looking apartment building. Bucky guided Steve through a residents-only security door that led down a short hallway to a bank of elevators. They got into one and Bucky pushed the button for the eighth floor.</p><p>There were two apartments on this floor. Bucky’s was a tidy one-bedroom in the back of the building overlooking an alley. He left Steve in the living room while he fiddled with his cellphone. After a minute, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally.” He smiled at Steve, took two steps and engulfed him in a hug. “Sorry if I was abrupt before. They probably weren’t monitoring our GPS. I know all the police vans are tracked, but they still have to know which one to follow. I don’t know. Angie might have cracked under questioning and given them information she shouldn’t have had –“ He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Or there’s a mole or this raid was preplanned as part of some investigation like the one into Nickels’s office and our timing just sucks…”</p><p>His head pressed up against Bucky’s flak jacket, Steve managed to nod once. “Yeah. That makes sense.” He pulled back and tilted his head up to ask Bucky a question. Instead, Bucky covered his mouth with his own, kissing him deeply and for all that he was worth.</p><p>“You are safe with me,” he said when he came up for air. He looked deep into Steve’s eyes. “You can trust me. I’m going to get you out of this. I’m going to protect you. Get you safe. Get you out of the country and safe. I’m not leaving you. I’m sticking with you to the end of the line.”</p><p>“I know,” Steve replied, feeling a giddy thrill hearing Bucky’s words. “I know. I do trust you. To the end of the line. It’s just…I don’t trust… her. The First Lady. Why do you?”</p><p>Bucky laughed a little. “Uhh… I don’t, not really, but.” He shook his head and took a step back. “I’ll tell you everything, but right now, we need to be quick. Go into the kitchen. In the cabinet under the sink are canvas sacks and an insulated bag. Fill them with food from the icebox and the cupboard. Fill one of the sacks just with water bottles. I’ve got a go-bag in the bedroom. We need to leave in five minutes.”</p><p>Steve nodded and went into the small kitchen to follow Bucky’s orders. There were two canvas sacks. He filled one with unrefrigerated water bottles. The other he packed tight with protein and granola bars, packages of raspberry Pop-Tarts, a small jar of barely-touched peanut butter and a bag of pretzels. Into the insulated cooler he put some oranges, apples and a bunch of grapes. He didn’t see the need to travel with butter or milk or eggs, nor anything from the freezer. He did find an icepack and worked it in next to the fruit. He was double-checking the kitchen for anything else they might need when Bucky appeared behind him.</p><p>“Ready to go?”</p><p>“Yes, I-“ Steve broke off at the sight of Bucky in civilian clothes. Up until now, he’d only seen Bucky in full dress uniform, a suit and tie, his tactical clothing, or naked. Seeing him in jeans and a blue-check flannel button-down hanging open over a plain dark-blue t-shirt was doing something nice to Steve’s insides. Then he saw the beat-up boots on Bucky’s feet and the leather jackets in one hand and ‘nice’ got nicer. “Wow.”</p><p>Bucky half-smiled at him. “We need to go. Take one of these jackets for yourself. Keep your hoodie. It’s plain and won’t draw any attention and you’ll need it for warmth. The leather’s for protection. I’ve got an extra helmet you can wear. Oh. You should pee first. It may be a while. Oh! And maybe grab a roll of toilet paper to take with us. Never know.”</p><p>“Uh, right,” Steve said, not exactly understanding but willing to follow along. Bucky’s bathroom was surprisingly clean, for an Alpha living alone, or maybe that was Steve being stereotypic. He peed in comfort, squeezing internally to try and get every drop out. He realized then that Bucky was probably planning on them peeing in bushes and that was not something Steve found very appealing. When he wiped, he was startled to see a smear of blood on the toilet paper.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. On The Road</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bucky and Steve on a cross-country road trip. There's a lot of conversation, some laughter, some tears, and some tiny thoughts about what might happen next for them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Much of Steve’s confusion was cleared up once they went downstairs to the parking garage and he saw Bucky’s motorcycle. Bucky quickly explained how the bike was his primary and preferred mode of transportation, and that any cars he drove belonged to the government. As they walked over to the narrow space reserved for motorcycle parking, he gave Steve a quick safety rundown. He zipped up Steve’s borrowed leather jacket, making sure it fit comfortably enough over the hoodie he’d taken from Natasha’s closet. Then he helped Steve with his helmet, pointing out the comfort adjustment points and the volume control on the built-in radio.</p>
<p>“It’s tuned only to my helmet,” he said as he tucked Steve’s long, blond hair into the jacket, hiding it from any onlookers. “It’s completely secure. No one will be able to eavesdrop. The face shield,” he slid it closed over Steve’s eyes, rendering everything around them much clear and sharp while eradicating the glare from the nearby street, “is designed to obscure any facial recognition while giving you improved vision, day or night. A person would have to get within six or seven inches to get any real glimpse of your face.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Steve murmured. Bucky put his helmet on, and Steve realized immediately he’d have no hope of recognizing him in a crowd of similarly outfitted Alphas. Unless he was permitted to smell them. He’d yet to sniff anyone who smelled quite as good as Bucky did. “So, we can both fit on this seat?”</p>
<p>“It’s big enough for your ass. Uh… that is… I mean…”</p>
<p>Steve waved away the apology. He knew he was tiny. There wasn’t any reason for Bucky to be embarrassed about pointing it out. He watched as Bucky shook his head and focused on stowing the food into the bike’s saddlebags. The penny dropped on the inadvertent double entendre as Bucky helped adjust the backpack over Steve’s shoulders. “Oh my God,” Steve muttered, feeling mortified as he tried to puzzle out if any of it were a compliment or not.</p>
<p>Bucky’s voice was soft and directly in Steve’s ear through the surprisingly clear speaker in the helmet. “Problem?”</p>
<p>“It’s fine. Let’s just go.”</p>
<p>Bucky climbed aboard his motorcycle and took it off the kickstand, balancing it easily with his booted feet on the ground. “Get on behind me,” he said. “It’s perfectly safe.” He pulled on a pair of leather gloves and waited.</p>
<p>It took two tries for Steve to get his leg high enough to swing over the seat, but he managed it. The angle of the seats and the weight of the backpack forced Steve’s crotch to rest up against Bucky’s rather firm buttocks. It was a cozy fit and Steve started to think that this wasn’t going to be such a bad ride, even if he had pre-emptively packed his underwear with what felt like half a roll of toilet paper. He heard and responded to Bucky’s radio test, found the right resting spots for his feet, and tucked his hands in the pockets of Bucky’s jacket. He was all set.</p>
<p>Bucky started the motorcycle and slowly backed it out of the little parking spot. Steve didn’t want to cause any issues, so he concentrated on keeping his balance and out of Bucky’s way. He was doing all the hard work, after all. Steve felt the bike shift gears, then heard Bucky’s voice in his ear saying, “Ready? Oh, shit!”</p>
<p>Their forward momentum stopped abruptly. Bucky’s feet were on the pavement. Steve leaned to his left and peered around Bucky’s shoulder. There up ahead he saw a black sedan pulling into the parking garage, a license plate reading <strong>POLICE</strong> centered on the front bumper. Instinctively, Steve clutched tighter to Bucky’s body. How were they found out so fast? Was it Rumlow?</p>
<p>The police car flashed its lights. They heard a deep voice over the car’s loudspeaker say, “Colonel James Barnes! You’re wanted for questioning by the Federal Police. Surrender now and let us take you in.”</p>
<p>“Not likely,” Bucky muttered. He gunned the engine and the motorcycle shot forward, aiming toward the exit ramp. Another police car, lights spinning, appeared in the exit and stopped, preventing them from getting past. Bucky turned the wheel and they started up the entrance ramp toward the second level.</p>
<p>Steve had so many questions, not the least of which was: where did Bucky think they were going?</p>
<p>Bucky easily maneuvered the motorcycle up the ramp to the second floor, then the third, then the fourth. Both police vehicles were in full pursuit, lights flashing, sirens making <em>beeeep-boooop</em> sounds that echoed through the concrete structure. However, the motorcycle could corner like a dream while the police cars lost ground with every turn. By the fifth floor, the police were a full level behind them. As they approached the sixth floor, Bucky said, his voice calm, “Don’t panic, Steve. I’ll get you through this.”</p>
<p>“I’m not panicking,” Steve replied through gritted teeth. “I’m not – holy Christ! What are you doing?”</p>
<p>Instead of turning left yet again at the sixth-floor ramp, Bucky turned right. Steve suddenly saw a pedestrian walkway in front of them that crossed over the street below to connect to the next building over. The doors on the other side opened automatically and then they were in the carpeted hallway of what Steve took to be an office building.</p>
<p>“Where are we?”</p>
<p>“Just hang on,” Bucky said again. “I got a plan.”</p>
<p>Steve’s heart was in his throat. Bucky had slowed down on the industrial carpet, propelling the motorcycle as much by his feet as the softly puttering engine. He turned at the end of the hall and headed toward a large elevator where he stopped, angling the bike to the doors. He punched a knuckle against the call button. Steve could feel Bucky’s steady, even breathing as they waited, his hands resting against Bucky’s waist.</p>
<p>A few seconds later, they heard a ding and the doors opened to reveal an oversized elevator car with a second set of doors on the other side. The only other occupant was a tired-looking janitor and his cleaning cart. He stared as Bucky maneuvered the motorcycle inside.</p>
<p>“Could you get the button for the ground floor for me?” Bucky asked the other Alpha with a gesture. “And can you let us out on that side, please?” The janitor pressed the correct button and the elevator doors shut. A moment later, the car started to slowly move downward. The descent was slow enough that Bucky started to hum <em>The Girl from Ipanema</em>.</p>
<p>Steve couldn’t help but smirk as he rested his helmet against Bucky’s back.</p>
<p>The elevator dinged again, the doors in front of them opened, and Bucky moved the motorcycle forward into a wide hallway lined with linoleum and grime. Ten feet along, the linoleum gave way to another parking level populated with service vehicles and dumpsters. The exit ramp directly across from them led up to the street. Bucky gunned it, pausing only slightly to check for oncoming traffic, before crossing the road and turning north.</p>
<p>“We lost them,” Bucky said after a moment. “They’re going to do a door-to-door search and set up roadblocks, but that’ll take time. They don’t seem to realize you’re the person with me.”</p>
<p>“How do you know?”</p>
<p>“Built-in police scanner.”</p>
<p>“Why do you have a built-in police scanner?”</p>
<p>“Comes in handy, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>Steve huffed a laugh in response. “Guess so.” He still found himself studying the traffic on the cross streets, listening for sirens, tensing up as vehicles bunched up around them, relaxing as Bucky gained speed and distance. It was exceedingly odd to be out on the street, in broad daylight, moving along with cars, without the buffer of tons of steel between him and the road. He clenched his fists inside Bucky’s jacket pockets, determined not to distract him with needless conversation and cause an accident.</p>
<p>They were at a stoplight at a fairly major intersection, the last one in the district before they crossed into Maryland, waiting for the traffic to clear and their light to turn green when Steve turned his head from the right to the left. There, sitting in the passenger seat of the black car beside them, was undoubtedly, unmistakably, Brock Rumlow, burned and mottled face and everything.</p>
<p>“Holy hell,” Steve said without moving his lips. “Ho. Ly. Hell. Go. Go now. Oh, my God. Bucky!”</p>
<p>“Relax, Steve,” Bucky said, his voice calm and soothing. He patted Steve’s hand through the jacket. “Don’t do anything. He can’t see your face. He can’t hear you. He’s not even looking at us. He might not even be able to see out of that eye. Everything’s fine. Everything’s ju-u-u-ust… fine. And there’s the turn light. We’re up next. It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine. You’ll see.”</p>
<p>Steve did his best to breathe evenly, to not react. At one point, Rumlow’s head did turn and he was definitely looking at the bike. Steve kept his posture loose, unconcerned. In his head, he chanted <em>look away, look away, nothing to see here, look away</em> as Rumlow’s eyes flickered from one thing to another. Then Rumlow was saying something, and then he was laughing, and then Bucky was revving up and the motorcycle was shooting forward. They veered to the right. Rumlow’s vehicle veered to the left.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank God,” Steve breathed. “That was close.”</p>
<p>“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Bucky said. “But neither are we out of options. They’re setting up roadblocks, but we’re already out of the District.”</p>
<p>“Where are you taking me, anyway?”</p>
<p>“Someplace safe. But it’ll be a while before we get there, so get comfortable. Remember, their resources are stretched pretty thin right now. It’s not like they’ve got the personnel to spend chasing us down. There’s an entire army coming this way. That guy on the White House roof is doing whatever he’s doing. There’s still the investigation into Nickels’s office staff, and whoever’s on Rumlow’s team is probably keeping all that lab stuff under wraps as long as they can. That project was off the books, remember. They’re going to have to answer a hell of a lot of questions about it. Before that happens, they’re going to want to cover their tracks and pin everything on the most vulnerable person they can get.”</p>
<p>Steve heard Bucky take a deep breath.</p>
<p>“Which will be you,” he went on. “And me, because I’m gone. Natasha leaving, disappearing like that? That drew attention to her, but it helped us, too, because it split their focus. They’re going to look for her, and for you, and for me, and according to the police band, they don’t know you and I are together or that Natasha’s left the district. So that’s all working in our favor. They haven’t spread their search outside the district yet, but they will. By then, I’ll have countermeasures in place. I’ll be able to see how well that’s working for us pretty quick. We’re in good shape, Steve. It may not seem like it, but we are. Promise.”</p>
<p>Steve gave Bucky a quick squeeze. He thought about everything Bucky had said, replayed it in his mind several times, tried to think through their options, figure out if they were missing anything obvious. It took twenty minutes of overthinking before Steve could let go of the ball of tension in his chest. There’d been no sign that anyone was looking for them. He wondered what was really happening with the fruitless search back in DC, if the police would manage to use all the tricks from TV and the movies to find them, like red light cameras and ATM machines and enlarged reflections in shop windows. Then he wondered if he were being unduly paranoid, because just because something appeared in a movie didn’t mean it was real. He knew it took much longer than ten minutes to get a DNA result beyond gender and blood type, for instance. The federal police of a rogue nation under siege by an invading army might not have access to the latest and greatest law enforcement options around, after all. Or even the resources to do the checking.</p>
<p>“So, Bucky…”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“We’re going north?”</p>
<p>“Yeah…?”</p>
<p>“…just making sure.”</p>
<p>There was a long pause and then Bucky’s voice had a touch of humor in it as he asked, “You want to know why we’re not going south, is that it?”</p>
<p>Steve froze. “Uh… only if you want to tell me. You don’t have to tell me.” Was Bucky going to get angry? Irritated? Was he distracting Bucky from the all-important business of driving the motorcycle? A person drives a motorcycle, don’t they? He was only riding it; Bucky was actually making all the decisions, making the motorcycle work. He was driving it. That had to be right, he decided.</p>
<p>After a moment, he heard Bucky say, “You can ask me anything. I’m not going to get upset. If I can’t tell you or don’t know the answer, I’ll tell you that. But as for why we’re not going south? That’s where the armies are focused and they’re all looking for someone to shoot. You might not realize it, but it’s going to be easier for us to cross into US territory if we go west, which is our ultimate aim. Fewer militia, fewer military. There’s a lot of commerce across the Mississippi, too. The checkpoints are used to people coming and going, so we’re less likely to get stopped or shot at. More likely to blend in. Also, when they do start looking for us, they’re going to assume we went south because that’s where the US forces are gathering and that front is closer. Their other option is going to be following us north, which is the direction we’re actually going in, but that’s just because this is the way the road goes.”</p>
<p>Steve thought about it. “Makes sense, I guess.”</p>
<p>“I’m just trying to increase our chances of getting out of this safely.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>A longer pause and then, “Anything else?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Do you ‘drive’ a motorcycle or does a person only ‘ride’ it regardless of if they’re in front or not?”</p>
<p>“I… I don’t know.” Steve felt Bucky’s stomach muscles ripple as he laughed.</p>
<p>Once past Bethesda, they hit the next highway rest stop. There were bathrooms, snack machines, picnic tables, emergency telephones and a Maryland state map. They parked the motorcycle near the picnic tables. Steve’s legs were wobbly when he slid off the bike and it took him a moment to get his bearings. Bucky helped him remove his helmet, then tugged the jacket hood over his head and grinned at him.</p>
<p>“We’ve got thirty minutes tops,” he said. “You’re going to be sore. You need to stretch and walk around a little. We’ll eat over here.” Bucky was happy to see that Steve had packed fruit. “You’re eating an orange and an apple,” he instructed as he poked through their food supply. “And at least one protein bar. And a bottle of water. And maybe a Pop-Tart.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Steve said, mockingly saluting. “I’m going to hit the restroom first. You’ll stay here?”</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah,” Bucky agreed with a small frown. “No longer than five minutes, okay? Keep your hood up, if you can, at least in the building.”</p>
<p>“Make it ten,” Steve said with a shy smile. “Omegas take longer. I can’t just whip it out,” he added with a shrug.</p>
<p>Bucky nodded and waved Steve on, tacitly agreeing to the ten minutes. He pulled his cell phone out of his zipped pocket and started doing something with it. Steve felt dismissed, then decided he was being proud for feeling slighted, so he ducked his head down and hurried toward the restrooms.</p>
<p>Twenty-five minutes later, they discarded their orange peels and apple cores, wrappers and napkins, and headed back out on the Maryland interstate. By the time they got to Hagerstown, Bucky had to stop for gas. Steve, helmet off but hood up, casually wandered into the attached convenience store to hit the restroom and then shop. Bucky had given him twenty dollars to spend on more snacks. Steve chose two candy bars, some beef jerky, a bag of locally produced trail mix, a box of sanitary napkins and a bottle of pain-reliever. The clerk barely blinked as she rang up the transaction.</p>
<p>Steve couldn’t help but grin. This was his first normal transaction with a normal person in over a year. Standing there in the Wawa, taking his change from the older Beta with the long braids, he felt something in his soul awaken, like he was being reminded of a truth he’d always known but hadn’t had evidence of in ages: a lot of people lived on this planet that just wanted to go about their everyday lives with as little fuss as possible. Not everyone was a megalomaniac out to conquer the world.</p>
<p>A strange relief almost choked him as he realized Pierce wasn’t going to succeed making his dreams of a planet unified under his authoritarian rule come true.</p>
<p>He was still clinging to that happy realization five minutes later as he walked out with his bag of purchases to see Bucky waiting, helmet in hand, on the chugging motorcycle. Steve exchanged a soft look with Bucky before taking the helmet from him. Bucky ran his hand through Steve’s hair, ruffling it and, Steve was certain, completely messing it up. Steve allowed it, though, because it made Bucky grin. He thought he might allow anything if it made Bucky smile like that.</p>
<p>They headed through the city of Hagerstown and back out onto the highway, this time in a westerly direction. Steve asked again where they were going and Bucky replied only, “We need to get to a motel for the night. I’ll start looking for one in West Virginia.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>It was much cooler this far inland at this time of year. Bucky was glad he’d had the smaller leather jacket at his apartment. He’d had it in high school, kept it for sentimental reasons when it no longer fit so well, and now it was keeping Steve warm and protected as the sun set and the temperatures dipped. He found them a small motel, family run, just a mile or so off the highway. He paid cash in advance, which prompted the manager to cut them a deal on the price. The motel was a dozen rooms in a single-story building facing a narrow parking lot. Their room was the farthest from the motel office.</p>
<p>When Bucky returned to the motel, he’d been gone almost two hours, twice as long as he’d told Steve to expect. It had taken him a while to find a good wi-fi hub in order to send his messages, and then he’d wanted to get them some decent food. Hopefully, one of the three meals he’d ordered from the bustling diner near the highway exit would tempt Steve’s appetite.</p>
<p>He knocked twice, waited, then three times more before inserting the old-fashioned key into the lock and opening the door. It was almost completely dark in the room with only the bathroom light turned on. Bucky realized Steve had been sitting on the bed, just staring into the shadows.</p>
<p>“Hi.”</p>
<p>“Hi,” Bucky said, closing the door behind him. “Sorry it took so long, but…” He shrugged. “It just took longer than I’d hoped.” He held up the bag of food with a hopeful smile. “I got dinner.”</p>
<p>Half of Steve’s mouth smiled. “I can smell it,” he said. He frowned at the room. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it had gotten so dark in here. Turn on the lights and let’s see what you got.” He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hands as he slid off the mattress. He’d obviously showered at some point; his hair was still damp around the edges. He’d changed clothes, too, into one of Bucky’s older t-shirts made soft by repeated use and washing. His bare feet and legs gleamed pale in the room, a stark contrast to the general brown and beige of the décor. Bucky got a glimpse of bright pink panties as Steve sat down at the too-small table by the curtained window.</p>
<p>Together they made the small room a little cozier. Bucky kicked off his boots and snapped on the overhead fixture, frowning at the garish quality of the light, while Steve opened the take-out boxes.</p>
<p>“Three meals?” he asked. “Are we expecting someone?”</p>
<p>“No,” Bucky answered, joining him at the table. “Wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got options. Turkey dinner, grilled chicken sandwich, roast beef on a baguette. French fries, mashed potatoes, fruit cup. We have bottled water. There’s coffee over there next to the machine.” He frowned. “Did you want juice?” He should have gotten juice. Pregnant people needed all their vitamins.</p>
<p>“I’m good, thanks,” Steve said with a grateful grin. He pushed a set of plastic utensils across the table. “Let’s just cut everything in half and see what we like.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. “Sounds good.”</p>
<p>The turkey dinner needed more salt, not enough of which was included in the takeout bag. The fruit cup leaned too heavily on melon. The French fries hadn’t traveled well, so they ended up tossing most of those. Between the two of them, they devoured the sandwiches. Finally, Steve leaned back in his chair. “I’m stuffed. Now I’m sleepy.”</p>
<p>“No room for dessert?” Bucky held up a Hershey’s bar.</p>
<p>Steve grinned, then reached out and snagged the candy bar. “Always room for chocolate,” he said. In short order, he’d ripped open the wrapper, broken off a piece and gulped it down before breaking off more. He held out the rest to Bucky. “Want some?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Bucky said. “I’ll take some.” He broke off another row of chocolate for himself then handed the rest back. He let the chocolate melt on his tongue while he watched bliss wash over Steve’s face with every bite of candy. Steve brushed back some errant strands of white-blond hair that kept floating around his face. “You showered while I was out, huh?”</p>
<p>Steve looked a little startled. “Oh, yeah. I needed to. All that road dust, you know? And all that soot.” He grimaced. “It kind of got everywhere. I blew my nose, and it was all black. Yuck.”</p>
<p>Bucky’s eyes got wide. “Got it.”</p>
<p>“No! I mean,” Steve facepalmed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be gross.”</p>
<p>He laughed. “It’s fine. I should, uh, probably do the same thing. No telling what was in that smoke,” he added with a mutter.</p>
<p>“How’s your arm?” Steve licked his finger and used it to pick up some salt crystals leftover from the French fries. He sucked on his finger, then repeated the action, clearly unaware of how he was sparking Bucky’s imagination.</p>
<p>His arm. Right. Bucky pulled off his jacket and over-shirt. “I hadn’t noticed it, not really,” he said. He held out both arms, comparing them side by side. “Huh,” he said, flexing the muscles as he turned them this way and that. “I guess I didn’t actually hurt it too bad.” Which was odd. It had hurt like hell when it happened, but the pain did ease up as the day wore on. He figured that was just adrenaline at work, helping him focus on getting them out of danger, out of DC, but now? Had he imagined the whole thing? Or had the long sleeves of his shirt spared him from the worst of it?</p>
<p>“That’s… kind of… yeah,” Steve agreed. “It just looks sunburnt. Maybe a little blistered in the middle of it. How does it feel?”</p>
<p>He glanced at Steve who looked a little glassy-eyed. Poor guy, Bucky thought. He’s been through the wringer. A firefight, a guy peeling his skin off (did it come off everywhere? Like, off his dick, too? the thought made his stomach turn), the oily smoke and the race through DC, the escape on motorcycle – for someone unused to and untrained for action, Steve was actually handling things really well. Bucky felt a rush of pride. This was his Steve, coping with all the trauma like a champ. His Omega. Who was staring at him, waiting for him to reply. What was the question?</p>
<p>Oh, right. “I barely feel it anymore. I mean, the burn. I feel the arm. It feels… like an arm.” He felt himself start to blush and stood up. “I should shower before bed, too. Which we should get to,” he added. “Bed, I mean. Also shower. But you showered already so, just bed, for you, I think. And me. Later. After the shower. Of course.” Could he <em>be</em> any more awkward? He needed to get things back to normal between them. What could he say that would remind Steve that Bucky used to know how to talk?</p>
<p>A shy smile spread across Steve’s face as he nodded. “Of course.”</p>
<p>“And no, of course you can borrow one of my shirts.” Sarcasm! That always worked, didn’t it?</p>
<p>Steve’s jaw dropped. “Sorry, but I didn’t have anything else. I hung up the other shirt in the shower. Hopefully, the steam will refresh it so I can wear it again tomorrow. It’s not like the First Lady offered me her pajamas. Or a change of clothes.”</p>
<p>Bucky waved away his teasing remark. Maybe sarcasm wasn’t the answer. Instead of coming up with something else he probably shouldn’t say, he pulled out his travel kit of grooming supplies and hunted up a towel. Thinking through it, he also grabbed spare boxer shorts and the t-shirt he’d worn that day, to sleep in. At the bathroom door, it occurred to him to say, more seriously, “You know, you don’t have to keep calling her that. You can call her ‘Natasha.’ I’m surprised you don’t. The three of you were bonded, after all.”</p>
<p>“Yeah…bonded.” Steve’s head fell back against the chair. “And now, what, a widow? You know, Buck… I really don’t know what to think about any of it. It’s way too much to process. Especially today. What the… what the hell? I mean it. What. The. Hell? I kept going over it in my head during the ride. Could I have done something, prevented it from happening somehow? Should I have stayed? Did anyone die because…” He shook his head. “I honestly can’t figure out if any of it has even been real. Yesterday, everything was as normal as it ever was. Then this morning, Rumlow wakes us up early and… all this happens and it all just goes… boom.” He shook his head. Bucky thought he saw fresh tears in Steve’s eyes. “I’m not sure I can keep up.”</p>
<p>“You’re doing great,” Bucky promised him. “Let me take a shower and then we’ll talk more, okay?”</p>
<p>Steve nodded.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The TV in the room only seemed to carry the state network, which had absolutely no news that in any way related to the lab, the explosions, or Pierce’s welfare, but which was airing a biopic about Pierce’s life (in which his first wife broke his heart by asking for a divorce, the second one cheated on him, the third one didn’t exist and then there was ‘Natasha’ with a laughably false Russian accent), and some local channel airing the animated ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame,’ of all things. Any other station required a credit card which Bucky was not about to use. It was just past ten and they were both exhausted, but Steve had questions. Figuring it could be easier to have an honest conversation in the dark, Bucky turned off all the lights except the one on the small bedside table, before crawling into bed on the side closer to the door. He stretched out on his back and stared up at what he knew was a water-stained ceiling. Steve settled next to him, mirroring his posture.</p>
<p>“So…” Steve began after a period of comfortable silence, “this is where you tell me what happened today?”</p>
<p>Bucky heaved a sigh. “Yeah. Sorry for taking so long, but…” How to explain that he needed time to reconcile what he’d witnessed with what he’d had to do with what he’d expected to happen – and then digest it well enough to explain it to Steve? “I don’t know where to begin.”</p>
<p>“The First Lady – Natasha – is she… what is she? Is she trustworthy?”</p>
<p>“Oh, sure. Start with the easy stuff,” Bucky said with a grin. Then he gently nudged Steve’s arm to show he was trying to tease him. “I think so. Maybe. I trusted her with Angie, certainly. With you? I still don’t know that I would have been okay sending you off with her. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe if you’d gone with her, you’d be safe now. And maybe not. I don’t have any way of knowing.”</p>
<p>“So, you didn’t know she was with SHIELD? Are you sure she was telling the truth about that?”</p>
<p>“Another easy one.” He thought a moment, then said, “she acted like she was. She knew that guy on the roof and definitely seemed happy to see him there. He was acting like he was on our side, and I think he’s the reason we got off White House grounds so easily. Natasha… she said all the right things in the end. She gave me intel. I think that was her way of telling me she trusted me so that I would trust her.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that something a spy would do, though?”</p>
<p>“Damn. You’re right there with the great questions, aren’t you.”</p>
<p>“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.”</p>
<p>Bucky blew out a long breath between his teeth, a habit he’d developed as a child to help himself think clearly. “Yes. A good way to get someone to trust you is to show you trust them, even if it’s not true. I just don’t see how her behavior, after Schmidt stepped out of the transformation pod, would indicate that she was anything other than a SHIELD agent.” He shifted a little, getting himself more comfortable on the lumpy mattress. “I saw her fighting in the lab. She didn’t run, she didn’t hide. She returned fire. And Schmidt seemed to know her.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what he meant by ‘red room,’ though.”</p>
<p>“That was strange.”</p>
<p>“As my Dad would say, just because someone’s got an abrasive personality, that doesn’t mean they’re a bad person. It just means they’ve had a tough life.”</p>
<p>Steve shifted around then, kicking his legs a little under the covers. “Your dad says that?”</p>
<p>“He’s a lawyer,” Bucky explained. “Mostly civil, some criminal stuff. He worked in Brooklyn for a big law firm for a while. That’s how I ended up being born there. Then he and Mom decided to move back to Indiana for a simpler life. Anyway, I’m trying to see past Natasha’s personality to her actions. It’s difficult.”</p>
<p>“Huh. Well, her actions haven’t been… let’s just say she hasn’t exactly proven herself to me.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Steve, I’m –“</p>
<p>“I don’t want to talk about that. I still want to know what was all that? In the lab, I mean? Was that the weapon? Did Schmidt, er, weaponize himself?”</p>
<p>Huh. “That’s a… pretty good way to say it, actually. Yeah. That was Project Rebirth. The serum they were making was meant to increase a person’s, well, everything. It was supposed to cure everything that was wrong with someone – spinal issues, diabetes, cerebral palsy – you name it. The serum was designed to make a flawed human perfect. Beyond perfect. The most perfect that person could be. It was supposed to amplify their musculoskeletal development to the highest degree possible. In other words, if you were short, but born with the genes to be six-two, you’d grow to be six-two. If you had the capacity to be a musclebound jock, you’d become that musclebound jock. If you had the genes to be healthy, you’d now be healthy.”</p>
<p>“How could it cure everything?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, but it did.” Bucky turned his head toward Steve, seeing his profile limned in the faint light coming from the TV cable box and the thinnest wedge of parking lot light through the tiniest gap in the top edge of the curtains. “You should have seen the lab rats. Tiny little things suffering all sorts of genetic abnormalities suddenly huge and healthy and…” He shook his head. “Freaky smart, too.”</p>
<p>Steve turned his head on the pillow toward Bucky. “Smart?”</p>
<p>“Rats are really smart to start with,” Bucky said. “Who knew? And when they got this serum, the successful batch, I mean, they started making plans.” He chuckled without humor. “They actually organized a break-out from their cages. Got as far as the door before they realized it was locked.” He frowned. “If that’s what they were realizing. There was some debate. The security footage was inconclusive.”</p>
<p>Steve got up on one elbow. “I’m sorry, <em>what?</em>”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said, determinedly playing it cool. “Either they were squeaking and running around, knocking things over because they were looking for a different way out, some way to pick the lock, or were just showing the early stages of mental decay, no one knew for certain. Even the autopsies didn’t reveal anything.”</p>
<p>“They killed them?”</p>
<p>Bucky shifted to face Steve better. “Not like you think. I mean, yeah, they all died, but it wasn’t because the scientists killed them. Not directly. They just started dying all on their own.” He closed his eyes, remembering. “I still have nightmares about it. I think they knew what was happening. The last one just… sort of… nosed at some of the others and… squeaked.” It had been extremely disturbing to see the video record. Some of the interns wept watching it. Killian, Sterns, Schmidt and Zola? Barely flinched. They ordered the autopsies, reviewed the data, and revised their formula. It was exceedingly rational and scientific and detached and made Bucky uneasy to witness. Even Rumlow had reacted to the rats’ plight: he grimaced.</p>
<p>“Oh, my God. That’s… horrible.”</p>
<p>Bucky opened his eyes to see nothing but compassion and concern on Steve’s face. “Yeah. It was. They were going to test the serum on a monkey next, but then one of the interns, I can’t remember if it was Fitz or Simmons, got everyone together and made them watch the ‘Planet of the Apes’ prequels. You know, the ones with Andy Sirkis? Anyway, after that, the interns banded together to change Schmidt’s mind.” He shrugged. “Which worked. They used computer models to fix the perceived flaws and then… tested it on Schmidt, I guess.” He frowned. “Maybe that was always their plan.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was probably always the plan. Sorry. And I’m sorry about what I told Pierce.”</p>
<p>“About giving him my name?”</p>
<p>Steve nodded again. His lips were compressed in a tight line.</p>
<p>“Don’t be. That’s what I told you to do.”</p>
<p>“But you would have ended up like… like Schmidt. All… red and… skinless.”</p>
<p>“Maybe.” There was every chance it wouldn’t have worked on him the same was as it did for Schmidt. It didn’t turn the rats red, or make their fur fall out. Who’s to say the serum would work the same way on everyone? Maybe it had more to do with an individual’s DNA than anyone knew?</p>
<p>Steve’s tone was shy as he said, “Well… I like your skin the way it is.”</p>
<p>Bucky laughed. “Are you saying you wouldn’t still care about me if I had a red skull instead of this handsome face?” He turned more fully on his side to face Steve, propping his head on the doubled-up motel pillow.</p>
<p>“Maybe I am.” He giggled.</p>
<p>“You nut,” Bucky said, and pulled Steve in close. “What else do you want to know?”</p>
<p>Steve twisted about to snuggle his backside up against Bucky’s pelvis. His butt was a little cold, so Bucky pressed closer. His cock twitched with interest, but Bucky mentally scolded himself. It had been a long day. He shouldn’t keep Steve up any longer than he had to, and he definitely shouldn’t even think about sex until Steve was in a better headspace.</p>
<p>“What actually happened in the lab after Rumlow got me out of there? You said you’d tell me that, too.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Yeah, uh.” Bucky took a moment to collect his thoughts. “There was a ventilation shaft in the back. Hidden by a fake cabinet. They used it as their escape route. The scientists, I mean. Well, Schmidt and Zola at least. I assume Killian. I don’t know about any of the interns. By the time I got up there, Schmidt was setting off a timer to a series of bombs wired to blow throughout the lab. They’d placed them there… I don’t know how long ago. Recently. Within the week, I think. I slid back down the ladder and booked it for the front door. Natasha was right on my heels. Pierce was… slower. He slipped at some point. Fell. I don’t know what happened to Sterns.” He thought hard. Did he see the scientist’s corpse on the floor as he ran past the central lab? If Rumlow had been given the order to shoot him, he would have, but would Bucky have noticed another dead body in a lab coat? Was there a third exit to the lab? What was that muffled explosion they’d heard in the hallway?</p>
<p>“I didn’t see him,” Steve said, “but I think he was still in there when Rumlow got me out. I didn’t see or hear anyone else in the hallway. I think most of them got out when the shooting started.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I guess he could have found a hiding space. Or there was a third way out of there. Anyway,” he continued, “small explosives were going off all over, like a cascading effect. Smoke was everywhere. Fire. Flashing lights. Natasha and I got to the vault door and shut it.” He scratched a hand through his hair, feeling a water drop slide down behind his ear. He chased it with his fingertips, hating the creeping feeling along his scalp. “We didn’t know how big the explosions would get. We just knew we had to contain the damage as much as possible.”</p>
<p>“But Pierce is definitely dead.”</p>
<p>“I don’t see how he could have survived. I mean, maybe he lucked out and hid in an office that didn’t get blown up. Or maybe he found another way out, too. But that’s highly unlikely. He was old, remember. He couldn’t keep up. He slipped and fell.” ‘Pierce slipped,’ he thought to himself. That sure was one way of putting it. ‘Fell over after his wife slugged him and cracked his head open on the sharp edge of a metal table’ was another.</p>
<p>Steve was silent for a long time.</p>
<p>Bucky was as gentle as possible when he asked, “You got any more questions?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Where are we actually going?”</p>
<p>“A safe place. You’ll find out tomorrow. Hit the light, will you?” He waited while Steve stretched out an arm to the bedside lamp and flipped the switch, plunging the room into darkness. Then he pulled Steve back in closer to his body, tucking him in tight. “This okay?” he whispered into Steve’s ear.</p>
<p>Steve averted his face. “Mm-hm. Actually, um, I’m sorry, but I don’t think sex is going to be a good idea tonight.” He seemed to be holding himself stiffly, as if bracing for an argument, as if Bucky were going to force the issue.</p>
<p>He couldn’t help but grin ruefully. “I’m not trying to have sex with you,” he assured him. “I’m honestly just trying to get comfortable so we can sleep. It’s been a crazy long day and we could really use a solid eight hours, if we can get it, and I’d feel better holding you close.”</p>
<p>“Right. Okay. Thanks, Bucky.” Steve seemed to relax a little, then a little more. The scent of vanilla and lavender wafted up from the spot behind Steve’s ear. Bucky realized he hadn’t smelled it in a while, that Steve had been scent-neutral to him most of the day. Or maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention. More likely, Steve was finally starting to relax, to believe that he was safe with Bucky, to trust him, and that was being reflected in his scent.</p>
<p>“No problem, Steve. Go to sleep now.” With that, Bucky laid his head on the pillow and let sleep take him under.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Steve tried to fall asleep as easily. He was exhausted but the room smelled funny and the bed had a strange dip in the mattress and the parking lot light wasn’t going to shut off any time soon. It wasn’t, well, he wasn’t going to call it ‘home,’ but he’d mostly gotten used to thinking of the small windowless bedroom at the White House as his own place. This still wasn’t it.</p>
<p>He did a quick mental calculation and realized he’d been up for almost eighteen hours without stopping. Ever since he’d started spending his days with Pierce, he’d been allowed to nap on the floor pillow whenever he wanted. This was the first day in weeks he’d been forced to stay awake so long in one go. No wonder he was tired. But he just couldn’t shut off his brain, not with everything else that happened since: the business with Ambassador Carter, Angie’s arrest, the underground lab, the firefight and the explosions and the gas and Rumlow’s face –  </p>
<p>He shuddered.</p>
<p>Bucky’s arm tightened around his chest. He thought about Bucky’s left arm. That injury was so strange. In the underground corridor, he’d definitely seen damage. The skin was blistered, the shirt sleeve in tatters. But after, Bucky hadn’t been favoring it or complaining about pain at all and now it just looked badly sunburnt.</p>
<p>
  <em>Like Rumlow’s face. Burned and mottled and Rumlow just walking around like nothing happened. And the blood and the cramping-</em>
</p>
<p>No! Stop thinking about all of that. Bucky didn’t notice anything.</p>
<p>
  <em>Because it wasn’t Bucky’s to notice.</em>
</p>
<p>Stop it! Think about something else. Anything else. You’re free! You’re in a motel room hundreds of miles from DC and no one else knows where you are.</p>
<p>
  <em>No one knows where you are. Except Bucky. Are you sure you can trust him? </em>
</p>
<p>Of course, I can.</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe you’re a loose end he needs to tie up? Maybe he’s going to kill you and dump your body in a ravine somewhere? Who would think to look for you way out here? Who could even identify your body? </em>
</p>
<p>That’s ridiculous. If he didn’t want me around, he wouldn’t have taken me along. And there are ways to ID me. I’m in photos.</p>
<p>
  <em>Loose. End. You’re a witness. You know he killed Pierce.</em>
</p>
<p>He didn’t kill Pierce. He was just there when Pierce died. That’s not the same thing. I was there when those interns died. I didn’t kill them. I wasn’t responsible…was I?</p>
<p>
  <em>Screams. Blood. Fire. Darkness.</em>
</p>
<p>I’m safe. I’m far away from that place. That whole thing is over.</p>
<p>
  <em>Safe. Right. With Bucky. Who’s taking you somewhere he won’t tell you about because he’s going to leave you in a forest off some dirt track or in some stone quarry. They still have stone quarries.</em>
</p>
<p>If he was going to do that, he wouldn’t have come back with dinner. And why would there still be stone quarries? Who still quarries stone?</p>
<p>
  <em>You thought he’d left you, though. You thought he’d gone. For a whole hour you just sat there on the bed making plans. ‘If he doesn’t come back, if this is it, I’m going to go to sleep and, in the morning, take everything and start walking.’ Of course, there are still stone quarries. All those granite countertops have to come from somewhere. Don’t they?</em>
</p>
<p>I also said he was definitely going to come back because I still had his go bag with most of the money in it. I double-checked. And at some point, the quarry has to run out of stone.</p>
<p>
  <em>Point. And you had the baby.</em>
</p>
<p>You think Bucky wants the baby?</p>
<p>
  <em>I think Bucky realizes the baby is leverage. The best leverage. No one’s going to harm you if you’re pregnant with Pierce’s baby.</em>
</p>
<p>And if I’m not?</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, that’s a whole other thing now, isn’t it… </em>
</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>They had breakfast at the same diner Bucky had gotten takeout from, a cheerful enough place that attracted a regular clientele as well as folks traveling through. One of the busboys was busy scraping off the painted Halloween decorations that had adorned the large front picture window. A box of paper turkeys and plastic cornucopias on the floor behind the register reminded Bucky of the upcoming holiday season.</p>
<p>Thankfully, the quality of food that morning was remarkably improved over the night before. Bucky took his time enjoying his third cup of coffee while Steve plowed through three blueberry pancakes, four strips of bacon, half a pot of coffee, and a tall glass of orange juice. It was a relief to see his strong appetite, and it was a joy to see Steve’s happy smiles as he looked around the busy diner at all the people coming and going, the truck drivers getting counter service, the Betas getting coffee over in the corner booth. A family came in at one point, Alpha, Beta, pregnant Omega and three children under six. They greeted the wait staff and piled into the large semicircular booth by the front window. Bucky could see them clearly from his position near the back of the restaurant.</p>
<p>“You ever think about how your life would have been different had things been more normal?” Steve asked suddenly.</p>
<p>“I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about what might have been,” he said. “It’s kind of pointless. I mean, I can’t change the past. I have to deal with reality.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Steve said. He ate a few more bites of his pancakes, then added more syrup. “I only mean, I guess, when you were little, what did you think your life would be like?”</p>
<p>“Oh. That’s a different question.” Bucky smiled, thinking about himself as a child, running around in the woods with his friends, barbecues in the back yard, going to the store with his mom and sister and pretending to ride the lawn mowers that were on display. “I guess I thought I’d have the life my parents did. A couple of kids. Nice enough house. Friends and neighbors and a decent job. Normal stuff. You?”</p>
<p>“I wanted to be an artist,” Steve said, surprising Bucky.</p>
<p>“You’re an artist?”</p>
<p>Steve stared down at his plate. “I wanted to be one. I can’t really be one now.” He dragged a wedge of pancake through a pool of syrup over and over again.</p>
<p>“What makes you say that? Of course, you can.”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “It’s illegal.” He ate the oversaturated wedge of pancake.</p>
<p>“No, it’s not.”</p>
<p>Steve stared impatiently at him. “Yeah, it is. As an Omega, I’m not allowed to own or rent a place by myself. I can’t get my own bank account. I can’t sign a contract. I can’t –“</p>
<p>“I get it, I get it,” Bucky said, leaning across the table. “I’m sorry. I only meant… there’s nothing stopping you from being an artist. Just, maybe, from being independent. Right now. It’ll change. You know it will.”</p>
<p>Steve took a deep breath. “Okay. Fair enough. I guess that’s a different question, too.” A small smile formed on his lips. Bucky couldn’t help but grin back.</p>
<p>They lingered at the end of their meal. They’d come into the diner just as the morning rush crested; they weren’t taking up valuable real estate by enjoying the cushioned bench seats a little while longer. Bucky kept half an eye on the family in the corner. He noticed the Alpha and Beta (he mentally named them Butch and Karen) kept talking and laughing with each other while the Omega minded the children. She (or so Bucky assumed given that the Omega was wearing a long skirt) cut up the children’s waffles, wiped their faces, took the smallest one to the bathroom, then the middle one, all before getting a fork into her now-cold sunny-side-up eggs. She was maybe halfway done when Karen instructed her to take the children outside to get them situated in their car seats.</p>
<p>Steve had gone to the restroom while Bucky was taking care of the check, so he could hear Karen complain to Butch, “Ronnie’s on my last nerve. If I have to raise my hand to those kids, they won’t be the only ones getting disciplined.”</p>
<p>“Ronnie’s fine,” Butch replied tiredly. It sounded to Bucky like they’d had this argument before. They lined up behind him at the cash register. A Beta in a floppy sunhat was getting directions to Reedsville so it was taking a minute to get to pay.</p>
<p>“Oh, of course, you’d say that,” Karen said, still behind him. “You think the sun shines out of Ronnie’s ass.”</p>
<p>“I do not! You know you’re my favorite.”</p>
<p>Bucky thanked his lucky stars that he wasn’t in <em>that</em> relationship. He waited politely while the cashier wished the Beta in the floppy hat a safe drive before turning her smile to Bucky. “Everything okay, sir?”</p>
<p>He handed over his ticket. “Everything was delicious, thank you.”</p>
<p>He’d filled up with gas already, so there wasn’t anything left to do in the parking lot while waiting for Steve but watch the little family get situated in their minivan. Karen pulled the Omega (Ronnie?) aside as Butch climbed into the driver’s seat. Bucky couldn’t hear what Karen told Ronnie, but he did recognize the strident tone she took with her. There was no mistaking the slap on Ronnie’s face, either. Bucky waited for Butch to react, but he just fiddled with his cellphone and waited for Karen and Ronnie to take their seats, too.</p>
<p>As they drove away, Bucky saw Steve come out of the diner, smile bright as the morning sun. He had the urge to kiss him. He handed him his helmet instead. As soon as Steve was settled, helmet in place, hands resting comfortably on Bucky’s hips, he started the engine and they roared off along the highway once more.</p>
<p>The further west they went, the more familiar the roads became. They crossed the Monongahela and turned north, got gas, ate a snack, turned west just south of Pittsburgh, and got to Zanesville around lunchtime. They had lunch at another diner, filled up again, and Bucky sent Steve into the convenience store to purchase snacks. He hoped he’d get himself a chocolate bar. The sheer enjoyment on Steve’s face the night before made Bucky want to feed it to him 24/7. There had almost been tears in his eyes when he nibbled that Hershey’s. Intellectually, Bucky knew it was due more to Steve being prevented from eating sweets for so long, or being able to choose his own meals, which was sad and unfair, but the rest of him registered the blissed-out expression on Steve’s face as sex.</p>
<p>This time, however, Steve returned in a hurry and without any purchases.</p>
<p>“We need to go. They found Pierce.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean, they found Pierce?” Bucky replaced the gas cap on the motorcycle and swiftly checked the tire pressure. He thought fast. “They found his body?” That was bound to happen sooner or later. He was glad they left DC as soon as they did. Nothing had come up on the local police scanners, but then, national news wouldn’t. He’d need to switch the feeds.</p>
<p>“No,” Steve said, crouching beside him. “They found <em>Pierce</em>. They say he’s been injured trying to defend his pregnant Omega from a ‘vicious turncoat traitor.’ They say he’s being treated in the White House medical suite. They’re hailing him as some kind of romantic hero.”</p>
<p>“Who’s saying this?” Bucky pretended now to fiddle with the engine, rechecking the oil and the carburetor. He glanced at the other patrons. They seemed intent on minding their own business. Maybe they were? Maybe he and Steve were safe, at least for the moment. He scolded himself for his complacency. He switched to the national news feed on his helmet’s Head’s Up Display even as Steve was filling him in.</p>
<p>“Vice President Nickels has been on TV saying this. He’s been saying he’s in personal contact with Pierce and getting all his instructions directly from him <em>and his wife</em>. His wife who hasn’t left his side in hours because she’s so distraught.” Steve stared at him, blue eyes wide and meaningful. “They’ve sent out federal marshals to search for the ‘highly placed colonel’ who fell in love with the president’s Omega and kidnapped her. Well,” he lowered his voice, “me. They’re saying you fixated on me, attacked the president and took me away. They’re saying you’re armed and dangerous and that I might be an unwilling victim but they’re not sure.”</p>
<p>“Natasha? They’re saying Natasha’s there, too,” Bucky said, reviewing the feed on his helmet’s HUD. “But she had to’ve made it to her exfil point. What’s the point in saying she’s still there?” What purpose was it serving to say that Pierce’s wife was still by his bedside if she wasn’t going to meet the press? Not that Natasha did many press conferences. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember a single one. So why say she was alive? Wouldn’t it be more tragic to say she’d died, too?</p>
<p>Or were they saving that for some point later on?</p>
<p>Steve shrugged. “They’re making the whole thing up, obviously, but why? Eventually, they’re going to have to show Pierce, aren’t they?”</p>
<p>“Unless their goal is to have him die of his injuries, making him a martyr and Nickels the new president that way,” Bucky pointed out. “But he’s already the president because Pierce is dead, so…” Maybe Nickels was going to use Pierce as a scapegoat for something? The lab explosion, maybe? Or did something else happen?</p>
<p>“But what about his wife? Why say she’s still alive if she isn’t actually there?”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky decided, standing up. “There’s nothing we can do about it and they’ll show their hand soon enough. The war will be over soon and it’ll all be moot. We got somewhere to be. Let’s get there.”</p>
<p>Steve got to his feet and laid a hand on his arm. “Buck,” he said, “are we going to be safe where we’re going?”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled at him. “If we’re not safe where we’re going, then we won’t be safe anywhere.”</p>
<p>“Last question.”</p>
<p>“Shoot.”</p>
<p>Steve’s voice was low and careful as he said, “I thought you had a Maryland license plate…?”</p>
<p>“I did.” He swung a leg over the seat and steadied the bike as Steve climbed on behind him.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The last three hours or so were on increasingly rural roads. The surroundings changed from city streets to town avenues to back roads traveled by the occasional John Deere tractor or Amish buggy. They hadn’t chatted much since the revelations about Pierce. Steve’s imagination was beset by images of Pierce coming after him, finding him, bringing him back. He pictured Bucky standing bravely in front of him, protecting him from evil federal police officers. He pictured Bucky being shot and falling dramatically, bullet-ridden, at Steve’s feet. He pictured himself being dragged away from Bucky’s bleeding, lifeless body, to be thrown down onto the floor in front of Pierce’s chair, to be tortured like he threatened to torture Angie: beatings, thorns, public humiliation, removal of his larynx, sexual slavery and then death.</p>
<p>He held tighter to Bucky and tried to tell himself that fear wasn’t reality. Bucky was reality. Bucky was real. The motorcycle was real. They were in rural Indiana now, which was a real place. And they were slowing down, coasting almost, and pulling over to idle on the side of the road.</p>
<p>“Hang on a sec, Steve,” Bucky said through the helmets. “There’s a… damn it. There’s a situation and we’re going to have to improvise.”</p>
<p>“Problems?” Steve heard himself squeak. He cleared his throat. “Are we in trouble?”</p>
<p>“Shh,” Bucky said. “Hang on. It’ll be all right.”</p>
<p>Steve closed his mouth and counted his breathing. <em>In-two-three, out-two-three-four.</em> It was a calming exercise he’d been taught that first week at the White House. A Secret Service officer had sat down with him and gone over safety protocols: how to keep calm in a crisis, how to call for help, how to find an exit, why the windows wouldn’t open, what would happen in case of a nuclear event. He held onto Bucky’s hips and straightened his back. He felt better today, despite the panic about the news from DC. He’d slept well in Bucky’s arms, woken with an appetite, and felt energized all morning. Surely Bucky would tell him what was going on in just a moment.</p>
<p>“Okay, slight detour,” Bucky said, “but we’re still on target. Ready?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>Bucky checked the road before re-entering the nonexistent traffic. He made a U-turn, drove about fifty feet, and then turned sharply onto a side road Steve hadn’t taken much notice of before. This side road wasn’t as well-maintained as the rural route they’d just been on. Dirt had crept up onto the asphalt from the shoulders, forcing them toward the center to find the smoothest path. Thick trees crowded above them, forming a canopy that blocked the mid-day sun’s light and meager heat. Leaves skittered behind them as they drove past wooden fences on either side. Beyond the fences, Steve saw wide fields laying empty, their crops harvested, black birds dotting the crisp golden landscape.</p>
<p>Another thick grove of trees marked the end of the field on the left. The lane veered right. Just before the curve, Bucky slowed abruptly and turned left. Steve instinctively gripped Bucky tighter as they went off-road, into the grove of trees where, miraculously to Steve’s mind, a narrow dirt path appeared. At half-speed, Bucky navigated the twists and turns of this dirt path like he’d done it thousands of times before, and maybe he had, because at one point, Steve was certain there was no way forward and yet Bucky didn’t slow down. Then they were through the trees and moving along a sort of dirt access road between two more fields.</p>
<p>Steve saw a farmhouse in the far distance, and what must have been a John Deere tractor near a red barn. Another stand of trees and then Bucky was slowing down to a stop. He twisted about to look back at Steve.</p>
<p>“You okay there?”</p>
<p>“I’m good,” Steve replied. “Where are we?”</p>
<p>“Indiana.”</p>
<p>Steve heard the humor in Bucky’s voice and he rolled his eyes, certain Bucky couldn’t see his disrespect. “Could you be more specific?”</p>
<p>“Yup.”</p>
<p>Steve forcibly relaxed his jaw. “At least one of us knows where he is.”</p>
<p>Bucky chuckled. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. My sister’s nearby. She brings out my inner asshole.”</p>
<p>Steve swallowed down his reply – <em>no kidding? You keep your sister in your pocket or something?</em> – and managed a polite, “Oh?”</p>
<p>“My parents’ farm is up ahead. This is the edge of their property.”</p>
<p>“Uh… should we have come here?” Steve asked. “Isn’t this the first place they’ll look for you? For us?”</p>
<p>Bucky’s shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “You’d think so, except they’re pretty sure we’re nowhere near here.”</p>
<p>“How do you know?”</p>
<p>“Police scanner.”</p>
<p>Steve worked his jaw a bit before deliberately relaxing his face. “Where do they think we are?”</p>
<p>“Upstate New York,” he replied. “The village of Celeron, to be exact, stealing a boat to take us to Lake Erie.”</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“Not important right now. I’m trying to figure out why there’s a sheriff on my parent’s property. He’s not supposed to be.” He shifted his weight and slid off the motorcycle, then held it steady so that Steve could join him on the ground. “We can’t risk the sound of the engine tipping him off. The sheriff called in that he’s doing a ‘welfare check,’ but that makes no sense. Don’t know where my dad is. I expected to just go up the driveway from the road. Now we get to sneak in the back. Won’t that be fun?” Bucky flipped up the face shield to reveal a happy grin.</p>
<p>Steve pushed up his own face shield. “Maybe he’s looking for you. Maybe this is a trap.”</p>
<p>“It’s not a trap and they’re not looking for either of us here. Promise. Besides, we’re not staying long. Stretch your legs a bit and then we can get moving. I mean it. Stretch.”</p>
<p>He felt a little silly, but he obeyed, taking a few steps up and then down the sloping ground, bending over to lay his hands flat by his feet, jogging a little in place. “Ready,” he said.</p>
<p>“Get back on,” Bucky said, patting the front part of the seat.</p>
<p>“I thought we were concerned about the engine noise…?” He slid his leg across the seat. Practice had definitely made this stretch easier.</p>
<p>“We are,” Bucky said. “You’re going to ride and help steer. I’m going to push.” He took off his leather jacket and laid it across Steve’s lap, instructing him to hold onto it as best he could.</p>
<p>Uncertain, Steve slowly adjusted himself forward on the seat until he could reach the handlebars and rest his toes on the footrest. “You sure?”</p>
<p>“You’re not heavy,” Bucky assured him, digging in to start the bike’s momentum. “Besides,” he said, beginning to push more easily. “You’re pregnant and we’ve got a ways to go.”</p>
<p>Steve sat quietly. “Right,” he said after a moment. They were definitely moving slower than before, and much quieter, too. He tried to keep his attention on the changing landscape around them, the new fields on either side, the trees, the long dip in the path ahead that made Bucky have to work to slow down so the bike didn’t crash, but Bucky’s arms were right there. One was just a half-inch from Steve’s chest, crossing his body to reach the other handlebar. His arms were bared to Steve’s gaze, muscles bulging with effort, skin warming from the exertion. He thought of the last time he’d seen Bucky’s muscles flexing, straining, as his body moved above Steve’s, face contorted with pleasure, groaning with each answering twist of Steve’s hips, and had to shake his head to rid himself of the memory. Not the time, he told himself. Not. The. Time.</p>
<p>Instead, Steve glanced at Bucky’s left arm. He hadn’t bothered to bandage it. The skin appeared slightly discolored, like it had only been deeply tanned, not deeply injured. It looked like it was healing up quick. It certainly didn’t look like Rumlow’s face. Nothing was melted, nothing was twisted up. Steve smiled a little with relief. Bucky was going to be just fine.</p>
<p>“I have another question,” Steve said after a few minutes. Bucky grunted in what sounded like an assenting way, so he asked, “Why are we going to your parents’ place at all?”</p>
<p>“My sister runs an auto repair shop,” he said. “Used to be my grandparents.’ She took it over. She’s bound to have a car we can take to get us the rest of the way.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Steve said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why didn’t we just steal a car somewhere?”</p>
<p>Bucky stopped short and stared at him. “And leave my bike behind? Hell no. I raised this gal since she was a tricycle. I’m not leaving her on the side of the road like an unwanted couch.”</p>
<p>Steve held up his hand in surrender. “Just asking,” he said. Bucky shook his head and started up again, pushing the bike along at a steady pace. He stopped another five minutes later or so to stretch and then move to the other side of the bike and start again. The whole time he kept mumbling under his breath things like, <em>is he joking? Leave my baby behind? Not in a thousand years. I’ve rebuilt her engine. Replaced the leather on the seat. Repainted her twice. Upgraded the lights, adjusted the clutch, rebuilt the carburetor…</em></p>
<p>Bucky stopped again and pointed a little way ahead of them. “Okay,” he said, “see that shed? We’re going to hide the bike in there and go the rest of the way on foot. Ready?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Steve said, slipping off the seat. He saw a decently-maintained shed tucked under the arms of a huge tree. It appeared to have a combination lock on the single door. Bucky opened the lock with ease, then took the bike and walked it inside the small space. Steve poked his head in and saw an array of screwdrivers and wrenches, as well as cans and bottles of engine lubricant and oil, small chains and other small engine parts. Bucky tossed Steve the last two protein bars, which he stuffed into his inside jacket pocket. A moment later, Bucky was sliding a collapsible knife he’d retrieved from somewhere on the motorcycle into the front pocket of his jeans. Nothing else remained in the saddlebags beyond the small cooler and some personal trash. Apparently satisfied, Bucky unfolded a dusty tarp from the corner and draped it across the motorcycle. Then he removed his helmet and indicated Steve should do the same.</p>
<p>Steve watched as Bucky peered carefully inside his helmet, then reached inside it. Steve heard a tiny plastic snap and then Bucky held up a square of metal about a half-inch long. “The police scanner,” he said. “And other things. Go ahead and leave your helmet here with mine. This is the part that we need.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Steve figured this would all make sense if he thought about it long enough.</p>
<p>Bucky ushered Steve back outside the shed, then smiled at him as he closed the door and spun the lock. Standing there, Bucky took out his cellphone and held the metal police scanner to the back of it. A moment later, Steve saw images appearing on the phone screen, boxes and colors and something flashing on what might be a map. Seemingly satisfied, Bucky slid the phone into his pocket and withdrew a tiny white earbud from one of his jacket pockets. He tucked that into his left ear, then grinned.</p>
<p>“Ready?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” He wondered what happened with the square metal police scanner. Was it attached in some way to the cellphone? He had so many questions, but when Bucky tugged gently on his wrist, he followed along, keeping up as they darted across an open stretch of cleared field to another grove.</p>
<p>Once there, Bucky was clearly hiding behind the larger trees as he moved the two of them closer to a wooden structure. A barn? An almost-windowless house? He peeked around Bucky’s shoulder. It was probably a barn. Had to be a barn. They were in farm country. Barns weren’t unusual.</p>
<p>Bucky held his finger to his lips in the universal ‘be quiet’ sign, then waved for Steve to follow. He crept around one side of the barn to a corner. There, he leaned out, then pulled back quick.</p>
<p>Steve, shorter than Bucky, knelt down and peered around the corner himself. Bucky had his hand on the top of Steve’s head, but Steve wanted to know what was going on. He saw a blue and white farmhouse with outside access to the cellar. He saw a cat creeping through a kitchen garden, an alert dog tied up to a stake in the center of a grassy side yard, three or maybe four parked cars, and a small cluster of people standing in the driveway shouting at each other. There was also a smaller version of the barn in the other direction toward some more fields. That smaller-size barn had a white fence marking out a ten-foot-square area inside which a couple dozen hens were clucking, their heads jerking back and forth in a disturbing fashion. Steve wondered if they were sick or something, moving like that.</p>
<p>Bucky leaned out past the corner of the barn, then moved back a few steps, taking Steve with him. “Listen up,” he said, barely making any noise as he spoke, “we need to stay hidden, but I can’t hear what’s going on from here. We can’t get in the barn without making a ruckus, we can’t get closer to the house without being seen, so we’re going around to the other side. Don’t worry. There’s just the one sheriff and he’s not paying any attention to us.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. Together they retraced their steps, then crept around to the front of the barn on the tree-line side. They peeked around the corner and could see the group of people much more clearly. They were maybe ten or fifteen feet away with a clear view of the entire front yard. They could hear everything now, too. Bucky crouched protectively just behind Steve, his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve tried to ignore the heat of Bucky’s body along his back.</p>
<p>“You’re not welcome here,” a young, full-faced Beta was saying. Steve assumed this had to be Bucky’s sister Becca. She looked a lot like Bucky with the same dark hair curling in thick waves down her back. In her cotton dress of yellow and orange plaid, she looked both cheerful and a little too fancy to be arguing with police in a farmyard. “How many times do we have to tell you to get off our property?” She folded her arms, resting them comfortably on top of her generous stomach.</p>
<p>“Just go, Henry!” an older Omega insisted. This person had to be Bucky’s mom, Winifred. She was slender with a crown of floofy white hair that lifted off her forehead with the breeze. Her outfit was similarly cheerful: a shiny, bright blue blouse and white capri pants. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times to leave me alone.”</p>
<p>“Winifred,” an Alpha police officer said with the kind of tone Steve was all too familiar with. Even from this distance and it being directed at someone else, it made his spine crawl. “It’s for your own good. It’s not safe for you to be alone, unprotected.  With all that’s going on with Jimmy, well… anything could happen out here.”</p>
<p>“My younger brother lives here, too, remember,” Becca said, a threatening undercurrent in her tone. “He’s looking after her. He knows how to use a rifle. He knows how to shoot… varmints.”</p>
<p>“I sure do.” Steve watched as a younger version of Bucky, tall and lanky, took a step forward, his arms crossed and his chin jutting out. It had to be Wash. Unlike the two others, Wash was not in cheerful colors. Instead, he wore a black t-shirt over a maroon long-sleeved shirt and jeans. “I know how to take care of folks who want to hurt my mom.”</p>
<p>“You’re not welcome on my property,” Winifred said. “I got rights, you know. You don’t got permission from my husband to be here, so you’re not welcome to be here.”</p>
<p>“Please, Winifred, I’m just looking out for you while –“</p>
<p>“I think my mom has made things quite clear,” Becca retorted. “You aren’t welcome here, you weren’t invited, there’s been no crime, no probable cause, and you found nothing, so you can go. Go right now or we’ll invoke the Castle Doctrine and Stand Our Ground. Wash? Get the rifle.”</p>
<p>The officer squared his shoulders. “Are you threatening an officer of the law?”</p>
<p>Becca glared at him. “If you were a true officer of the law, I wouldn’t have to. It’s not a good look for you that you have to stoop so low as to threaten the wife of a man you’re trying to prove guilty of some nonexistent crime.”</p>
<p>The officer worked his jaw for a moment. With obviously feigned politeness, he said, “I’ll be back.”</p>
<p>“I just want you gone,” Winifred said with a shake of her head. She pressed her lips together.</p>
<p>“My dad’s a hero,” Wash said. He took another step forward which prompted Becca to put out a hand to prevent him from getting closer to the officer in charge. “And he’s going to kick your ass in court if you don’t get off our property right now. Threatening witnesses, I swear to God.” He shook his head in clear disgust.</p>
<p>The sheriff favored them with a thin grin before telling them, “I’ll be just across the street. That’s public property. It’s for your safety, you know. Lot of bad things happen to people who get too far away from police protection.”</p>
<p>It took the sheriff a few minutes before he was in his cruiser ready to leave. He tensed, expecting Bucky to stand up and get out of the bushes, but Bucky’s hand between Steve’s shoulder blades remained firm and heavy. He tried to figure out why Bucky wasn’t moving. There had to be a reason, right?</p>
<p>The family group, Winifred, Wash and Becca, hadn’t moved, either. They stood in a loose semicircle facing the driveway where it curved toward the street. Winifred took a step back toward the house, but Becca shook her head once. Steve thought he saw her lips move, but he didn’t hear anything. Another minute passed, then two, then Becca took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“You can get out of there now, you big lunkhead,” she said clearly but without turning in their direction.</p>
<p>Steve felt Bucky relax. “Come on, Steve,” he said. “Coast is clear.”</p>
<p>Bucky pushed him gently in front of him as they approached the family group. Winifred and Wash both gasped. Winifred’s hands flew to her mouth while Wash darted forward with a sudden cry. Becca turned immediately and placed herself in Wash’s path, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, pulling him back. “For Christ’s sake,” she growled, “have a little situational awareness! Get in the house, all of you. Quick. He could still come back.”</p>
<p>Bucky kept his hand on Steve’s back between his shoulder blades and guided him up the steps of the front porch. From the front, the farmhouse itself was utterly charming. It had a wide front porch that ran the length of the façade, rocking chairs, and a swinging bench seat. Lights shone through the clean windows on the first floor revealing an explosion of color within. Steve didn’t get a good look as he was hustled past, but once inside, he could see the front room clearly.</p>
<p>It was a large space the depth of the structure’s footprint divided by a supporting arch. The front room was obviously used for conversation. A well-loved couch stood against the opposite wall while twin cushioned chairs faced it across a low coffee table. In front of the windows stood an upright piano. A tall grandfather clock in the corner ticked away the time. In the adjoining room was a television mounted above a brick fireplace. Facing that was another sofa and a different set of cushioned chairs. Bringing the rooms together, though, were pink and blue and purple cherubs, streamers, flowers, wrapping paper, boxes, tiny clothes, and single large stroller in the corner overladen with diapers, bottles and other baby accessories.</p>
<p>Oh, Steve thought. Becca isn’t fat. She’s pregnant.</p>
<p>Inexplicably, he wanted to cry. Instead, he took a few steps into the room to allow Becca and Wash and Winifred to hug Bucky over and over, again and again, with tears and excited exclamations. When that all seemed to die down, he turned with a huge smile, determined to be a pleasant guest.</p>
<p>“Mom,” Bucky said, “this is Steve.”</p>
<p>“Stevie Pierce,” Wash said at the same time. “In our house!”</p>
<p>Winifred stretched out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve, is it?” She glanced at Bucky and smiled warmly at Steve.</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said. He ignored Wash’s look of stunned disbelief and shook Winifred’s and then Becca’s hand in turn. He flinched involuntarily when he faced Wash and his awed expression.</p>
<p>“It’s so nice to meet you, Miss Stevie,” Wash said, holding Steve’s hand in both of his.</p>
<p>“Great,” Steve said weakly. He tugged on his hand, then tugged it again out of Wash’s grasp.</p>
<p>“Back off,” Bucky said in a low voice, his eyes narrowed toward his brother. He physically put himself in between Wash and Steve. “You want to sit down, Steve?”</p>
<p>“Where are my manners?” Winifred said. “Of course, please sit down. We were just finishing up Becca’s baby shower when the rat bastard showed up and scared off all our guests. Please excuse the mess, but…” She shrugged as she led them into the living room.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Steve said, taking it all in. He saw stuffed animals, receiving blankets, crib sheets, a mobile. He smiled at Becca. “Do you know yet what you’re having?”</p>
<p>She smiled back. “An Omega,” she said. “We got the results last week, but I was waiting until today to announce it.”</p>
<p>“That’s wonderful,” he said. At Winifred’s urging, he sat down on one of the chairs. She immediately pulled the curtains across the front windows and turned on another lamp.</p>
<p>Wash sat across from him on the couch and leaned forward. “We heard you’re pregnant,” he said, grinning hugely. “Do you know yet?”</p>
<p>“George! That’s rude,” Becca said. “And you can’t tell until the second trimester anyway. I’ve told you this.”</p>
<p>“Right, right,” Wash said, not looking away from Steve.</p>
<p>Bucky stood next to Steve’s chair. “It won’t work,” he told his mom. “You can’t distract me. What’s up with that sheriff? Where’s dad?”</p>
<p>“Oh, honey,” she said. “That’s nothing. Well,” she cast a look at her unimpressed daughter, “not nothing. Your father’s in jail.”</p>
<p>“What?” Bucky leaned against the top edge of Steve’s chair. “Say that again? Why?”</p>
<p>Becca and Wash just looked at Winifred, clearly letting her field their brother’s questions. “It’s a nuisance suit, really. The sheriff’s department is upset that your father keeps taking defense cases.” She glanced at Steve. “Their father, Jimmy, is a lawyer, you know. He specializes in civil litigation. Over the last few years, he’s been taking on a lot more cases against the police and the city council, defending a lot of people against a lot of stupid charges. It’s… it’s been a bit of an ordeal, really. And it pissed them off. So they passed an ordinance restricting pro bono work and locked him up when he protested.” She shrugged. “It’s as simple as that, really.”</p>
<p>Becca scoffed and folded her arms. “They’ve been looking for an excuse to lock him up for a year now. Ever since they got rid of the public defenders’ office, really. Fucking fascists.”</p>
<p>Winifred sighed. “You know your father,” she said. “He can’t stand injustice.”</p>
<p>Steve felt Bucky’s hand rest heavily on his shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I’ve heard his speeches.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing you can do about it now anyway,” Winifred said briskly. “Why don’t you tell us why you’re here? It was our understanding that the two of you were eloping to Mexico or something.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Becca said with a grin. “State news says they’re on a sailboat heading to Bermuda.”</p>
<p>“Uh… no, not that, either,” Bucky said.</p>
<p>Wash, who’d been staring at Steve, finally looked up at his brother. “Was that really you? Did you really attack the president and his wife, fight off a squadron of soldiers in your apartment, jump across the street to another building twenty feet away, and steal a helicopter?”</p>
<p>“That’s oddly specific,” Steve muttered.</p>
<p>“Where is your motorcycle, anyway?” Becca asked. She pressed on the small of her back, clearly stretching her muscles.</p>
<p>“It’s in the far shed,” Bucky replied, ignoring his brother. “Under a tarp. Take care of it for me, all right?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” she said. “I would have thought you’d have stolen a car along the way, though.”</p>
<p>“And leave my baby girl behind?”</p>
<p>“He raised her since she was a tricycle,” Steve said with a small grin.</p>
<p>Becca laughed. Wash looked put out. “Come on, did you do any of that or not?”</p>
<p>“Not,” Bucky said. “You kidding? I had Steve with me.”</p>
<p>“Yes, dear,” Winifred said, nodding sagely. “Of course, you did. But, what’s your plan now? I love you and I’d do anything for you, but I don’t know how long we can keep you here.”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?” Wash said. “Stevie could stay in my room.” Everyone stared at Wash. He seemed to realize what he’d said, because he added, “I’d stay on the couch, I mean. I wouldn’t… you know. But she could have my room. I wouldn’t mind.”</p>
<p>Steve knew he should feel flattered, but he just felt uncomfortable. He glanced up at Bucky who was staring at his brother like he’d been speaking Greek.</p>
<p>“’She’ is a ‘he’ and ‘he’ is not staying anywhere near your room,” Bucky said firmly. “And when did you get your nose? Does no one tell me anything anymore?”</p>
<p>“You’re such a jerk!” Wash folded his arms, his face flaming red. Clearly, the subject of his onset of puberty was still a source of embarrassment. Steve hid his grin. He remembered his own uncomfortable experience with waking up to the realization that Alphas smelled differently than Betas and it not having anything to do with perfume or cologne. He’d had the urge to sniff every Alpha he came across just to catalog their scent. It had taken several stern lectures from his mother about ‘propriety’ and ‘good manners’ and ‘behaving oneself’ before Steve had gotten accustomed to it, at which point Alpha scents no longer fazed him. They interested him, sure, but they were no longer such a source of fascination that he’d follow one onto the express subway just to enjoy the scent of warm grass and fresh-cut flowers a little longer.</p>
<p>“Wash, behave. Bucky, sweetheart,” Winifred said, cutting through the nonsense, “what is your plan? Will you be staying long?”</p>
<p>Bucky sighed. “Sorry, Mom. I hope we don’t even have to stay the night. Can we get something to eat, maybe? We didn’t really stop for lunch.”</p>
<p>Winifred’s eyes got huge and she stood up with a fluttering of her hands. “Of course! I should have – I’m so sorry – of course, please. Come into the kitchen. I’ll get you two squared away.”</p>
<p>The house itself was a modified foursquare floorplan, Steve realized, with a staircase in the center of the structure. The front room was to the right of the front door. That led into the TV room, which overlooked the back yard. From the TV room, there was a short hallway that ran to the kitchen. In that hallway were doors to a bathroom and coat closet on one side, a door to the basement and an opening to the front hall of the house on the other. Straight ahead was the large eat-in kitchen with a door to the back yard. In the fourth corner of the house was the formal dining room.</p>
<p>“Your home is lovely, Mrs. Barnes,” Steve said once he’d been seated at the farmhouse-style kitchen table, Becca catty-corner to him at one end.</p>
<p>“Thank you, dear,” Winifred said. She’d been bustling about the kitchen, gathering bread and cold cuts, a veggie platter, colorful macarons, and lemonade. Wash and Bucky helped by moving those items to the table. Once the others had joined them, Bucky and Steve started making ham and swiss sandwiches.</p>
<p>“Thank you so much,” Steve said after eating several bites. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”</p>
<p>“I was always starving when I was pregnant,” Winifred said with a smile.</p>
<p>“God knows Becca can’t stop eating,” Wash said with a snicker. Becca retaliated by tossing a potato chip at him.</p>
<p>“I’m eating for two, idiot,” she said.</p>
<p>“Two hundred, maybe,” he shot back.</p>
<p>Steve couldn’t help it. He cringed at what he took for animosity between the siblings, the casual insults and hint of violence even in the tossed potato chip. He held his sandwich half in both hands and concentrated on taking small, delicate bites, and chewing thoroughly before swallowing. The others were laughing, for some reason, but they seemed to be ignoring him at the same time. He felt Bucky’s hand on his back, stroking him from shoulder to waist, but he didn’t know what it might mean. It might be meant to be comforting. It might just be absent-mindedness, a habit signifying absolutely nothing. Then Bucky’s hand patted twice on his lower back and Steve looked up.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, what?”</p>
<p>Everyone was looking at him expectantly. Winifred smiled kindly and said, “I was wondering how far along you were. The news reports have been vague, to say the least.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Becca added, “first it was March, now it’s May or even June. Don’t they know?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Steve picked up his glass of lemonade and took several sips, trying desperately to think of a response.</p>
<p>“Steve lost the first one,” Bucky finally said. His hand started stroking Steve’s back again.</p>
<p>“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” Winifred said. Steve risked a glance at her. She seemed sincere. “I lost probably four, all told.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t get easier, but it does happen more than you’d think.”</p>
<p>“You did?” Becca asked, clearly surprised at the news.</p>
<p>Bucky leaned in and said softly to Steve, “See? It’s not so terrible.”</p>
<p>Steve glanced at Bucky for reassurance, found it, and nodded at Winifred. “Thank you. No. It wasn’t… the First Lady, she wasn’t… happy.”</p>
<p>Becca frowned. “Was that the real reason the trip to Japan was cut short? They said before Pierce left it was a three-week tour of Japan and Southeast Asia, but when he came back so quick, they said it had always been planned as a short trip.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. He felt guilty, sad, a little relieved, and jealous. It was the last that made him feel ashamed of himself. There was no reason to be jealous of Becca. Just because she was having a child with an Alpha who probably loved her amidst a family that clearly loved her didn’t mean Steve couldn’t luck out and have the same. Some day. Some Alpha somewhere would look past his past and love him for himself. Wouldn’t it be nice if it were Bucky?</p>
<p>“It’s part of the reason I had to get him out of there,” Bucky said.</p>
<p>“Not really…?” Steve looked up at him. It was happenstance, surely. Steve was just in the right place at the right time.</p>
<p>“Of course!” Bucky looked at him with mild surprise. “What she did… that was unconscionable. Steve… you know you didn’t deserve that. I would have done anything to prevent it… but you know I couldn’t have.” He looked downcast and a little ashamed himself. “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it clearer to you.”</p>
<p>“No, you… it’s fine.” Steve laid a hand on Bucky’s thigh. They smiled at each other for a moment, then Steve remembered they weren’t alone. He glanced at the others. Wash looked suspicious, Winifred’s expression was soft, and Becca smirked.</p>
<p>“You two,” Becca said, popping a purple macaroon into her mouth.</p>
<p>Bucky cleared his throat. “Anyway, we’re here now.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Winifred said, clearly glad to be talking about their situation once more. “What are we supposed to be doing with you? I mean, we can probably only hide you in the storm cellar for so long before it gets uncomfortable.”</p>
<p>“We need to get across to the US. I have some information for them I have to give them in person. Steve will be safer there, too. They’ll be able to protect him from the Pierce family, or any loyalists. As for how, well, I was hoping to get a car from the shop...?” Bucky looked at his sister. “If you’ve got one we could conveniently steal?”</p>
<p>Becca took a deep breath. “Uh… not really. Besides, people do insist on getting their cars back. It’s kind of expected.”</p>
<p>“I was afraid of that,” Bucky said, eating some chips with a frown. “I was hoping maybe you had a clunker or something no one would miss.”</p>
<p>“Shit. Sorry,” she said. “The one I do have doesn’t have an engine or a passenger door.” She thought a moment. “Or four wheels, come to think of it. If you want to wait a few days, I can probably get you something decent that won’t cause you any problems.”</p>
<p>Wash frowned. “How were you going to get across the border anyway? You don’t have papers, do you?”</p>
<p>“I’ve got ID,” Bucky said. He patted his jacket pocket.</p>
<p>“You got any ID in that pocket for me?” Steve asked, knowing the answer would be ‘no.’</p>
<p>“There’s ways to hide in a car so no one will find you,” Bucky said. He rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It wouldn’t be for long.”</p>
<p>“That’s no way to treat a pregnant person,” Winifred said with gentle reproach. “James Barnes, I raised you better than that.”</p>
<p>“What do you want me to do, Mom? I’ve got to get us across the border. He’s not safe.” Bucky sighed. “They don’t care about him. They only want the baby, and that’s one problem that can be solved with time.”</p>
<p>“Oh, God.” Becca laid a hand across her prominent stomach. “We were all told this was a love match. I mean,” she glanced at Steve, “the age difference is huge, but things happen. It’s not impossible. The state news can’t say enough soppy things about how Pierce dotes on you, how he doesn’t let you out of his sight, takes you to all of his meetings, feeds you by hand.”</p>
<p>“There’s a lot more going on than you know,” Bucky said. “The government lies to the media, the media lies to the people.”</p>
<p>“We know that,” Winifred said with a scoffing noise. She looked around the table at everyone. “We all know that.”</p>
<p>“More than you know, I mean,” Bucky said. “They lie to themselves, each other. It’s so much worse than you think in DC.” He took a deep breath. “Look. Pierce is dead. I’m 99% positive. I was there. He maybe survived what happened, but I don’t think that’s possible. He was old, living on vitamin shots and the best healthcare the country could afford. He couldn’t… he couldn’t even keep up with Steve’s heats. It really wasn’t a love match. He chose Steve out of a catalog so his wife could have a baby.”</p>
<p>Steve felt his face aflame with embarrassment. He hadn’t known how he’d been chosen. Maybe Bucky was just guessing? Except how else could Pierce have found him?</p>
<p>“Oh,” Winifred said. “Oh! Oh, honey.” She covered her mouth. Becca was stunned or distracted enough she stabbed herself in the face with a carrot stick. Wash just looked confused.</p>
<p>“Yeah, so that’s actually how Steve and I met.” Bucky swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Mom, that I’ve let you and Dad down, but it was the only thing I could do. I didn’t hurt him. I mean, I tried not to, I swear, Mom, I-“</p>
<p>“Shh, shh, baby,” Winifred said, reaching across the table to take Bucky’s free hand in hers. His other hand was still on Steve’s back. “I know you did the best you could, given the circumstances, whatever they were.” She glanced at Steve. “I’m sure Steve wouldn’t be here now if you weren’t as kind as you could be.”</p>
<p>Steve forced himself to nod. It was important to him that Winifred know she’d raised a good, gentle Alpha she could be proud of. He wiped his cheeks, surprised to realize they were wet.</p>
<p>Wash was still confused. “I don’t get it. What are you… um. Oh.”</p>
<p>“Idiot,” Becca said fondly. “I’ll explain it later, in glorious technicolor detail, if you like. But, I mean, you live on a freakin’ farm. You should be able to figure this out.”</p>
<p>“Uh…”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you clear the table, Wash, honey,” Winifred said gently. “And then bring us what’s left of that cake and a bunch of forks.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>
<p>As they devoured the remainder of Becca’s baby shower cake, a violet-tinted sponge with fluffy white frosting decorated with pink, blue, and purple flowers complete with raspberry filling between the layers, they debated Bucky and Steve’s options for getting past the admittedly porous western border between the US and the FS.</p>
<p>“You could drive to the river and steal a boat,” Becca said.</p>
<p>“They’d probably sink him before he got close to the other side,” Wash pointed out. “The US Coast Guard is actually good at their job. He may as well go through a checkpoint.”</p>
<p>“So, a bridge,” Winifred said. “You need a bridge. Closest one’s the Mark Twain over to Hannibal. It’s clear across Illinois, of course, but you knew that.”</p>
<p>“Militia patrols are spotty,” Becca told them, “but they do exist, and they aren’t known for taking people’s word for why they’re out and about. Only people who really get through anywhere are doing business and paying regular ‘tolls.’” Off Steve’s confused look, she defined the word ‘tolls’ for him as ‘bribes.’</p>
<p>“I still say you could stay,” Wash said repeatedly.</p>
<p>“He’s not sleeping in your room,” Bucky would consistently reply.</p>
<p>“There are other places,” Wash said later. “The Proctors are always talking about that hidden space off their cellar. You know what I mean, Bec.”</p>
<p>She frowned. “The Underground Railroad stop?”</p>
<p>“What, really?” Bucky paused, a forkful of cake inches from his lips. Steve, a little bleary from listening to the Barneses strategize, was enjoying a surprisingly detailed daydream of licking purple frosting off Bucky’s naked body. Would that much frosting make him sick, he wondered? Then Bucky ate the forkful and the daydream faded away.</p>
<p>“It’s not an Underground Railroad stop,” Winifred said with exasperation. “Their house isn’t that old. It’s probably a bootlegger’s room. Why they can’t just say that, I don’t know. Guess it makes them think they look progressive or something.” She rolled her eyes. “No one’s buying it.”</p>
<p>“The Proctors are very nice,” Becca said carefully. “Mark’s got a good relationship with his parents and I’d like to keep it that way.”</p>
<p>“They do make good cheese.”</p>
<p>“I like their jam,” Wash agreed.</p>
<p>Noting Steve’s curiosity, Becca explained. “My in-laws own a small dairy not far away. They make their own cheese, have done for over fifty years. Since the Internet, they’ve been selling it by mail order. They branched out into jam and honey about ten years ago. Mark’s idea,” she said, looking proud. “Every day, almost, he goes off to a different farmer’s market or specialty shop to sell stuff. Plus, he makes regular deliveries to supermarkets all over Indiana and southern Illinois. Well, him and now they’ve gotten some help since his parents are getting up there in years.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” Bucky said.</p>
<p>Steve had been silent through most of the family’s conversation, but after Becca’s explanation, he ventured a question he thought might provide their answer. “Any chance they might have to make a delivery to Missouri?”</p>
<p>Becca blinked at him, then started to smile. “You know? I think they might.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The plan they settled on was simple enough. Wait for dark, climb into the trunk of Becca’s car, let her drive back to her home, stay there the night until Mark needed to drive to the dairy, get into the dairy truck and let Mark drive them over into Missouri. Easy-peasy.</p>
<p>Steve offered to help Winifred clean up the kitchen. She refused at first, then relented. It gave Becca and Wash a chance to catch up more privately with their brother, and both Omegas felt it was important to give Bucky a break for a while. While the Barnes kids were outside playing fetch with the dog, Steve and Winifred bustled about, wrapping up leftovers, gathering trash. Steve hadn’t realized Winifred had been sniffing him until she said, her voice almost a whisper, “I don’t know why you’re doing it, but I suspect you have a good reason. I see how my son looks at you. I know what must have happened and I’m not asking for details, but if you’re lying to him because you think he won’t help you any other way, you’re wrong. He’s not the sort to leave things half-done. If you’re lying to him because you think you can tie him to you with false promises, he’ll drop your ass the instant he realizes you tried to play him. It’s happened before. And if you’re lying because you’re afraid to tell him the truth, out of shame or fear or whatever else, let me put your mind at ease. My boy knows better than to hold a person’s choices against them.”</p>
<p>It was all Steve could do to stand there, pulse thundering in his ears, feeling the world shift under his feet. Immediately, Winifred’s arms were around him, their chores forgotten, as she rocked him back and forth and whispered, “there, there, sweetheart. It’s all right. It’s all going to be all right. You’ll see.”</p>
<p>“I can’t… I don’t…” Tears threatened and his body shuddered, desperate to keep them in. He missed his own mother terribly and wondered if Sarah and Winifred would have been friends. He needed Sarah’s wisdom, the smell of her skin, the way she’d stroke his hair and sing to him when he felt low. He imagined hearing her sing to him, that little Irish lullaby, he could hear it in his head as if she were the one holding him, and lost his battle against grief.</p>
<p>“Shh,” Winifred said. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. You do owe Bucky some kind of explanation. I wouldn’t necessarily tell him now, but as soon as you can, okay?”</p>
<p>Steve looked up at her and nodded. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Barnes. I didn’t know what else to do.”</p>
<p>Winifred wiped his cheeks dry. “I’m ‘Freddie,’ if you don’t feel you can call me ‘Mom.’ But maybe soon, you will.” She smiled tenderly. “Why don’t you go upstairs, wash your face, and take a nap? You’ll feel better. There’s not much left here to do.” She gave him directions to Bucky’s old room and sent him off.</p>
<p>It was at least three hours until sunset. Bucky’s room had long since been redecorated after he’d moved out, but it did retain some of his childhood treasures. The blue curtains had big white stars on them, a handmade rocket ship still hung from the ceiling in the corner, the dresser was still scarred by a science fair mishap, and the inside closet door still had a life-size poster of David Bowie as the Goblin King plastered to it. Otherwise, the twin bed had been upgraded to a full, the carpet replaced, and the closet stored mainly Christmas decorations. Steve found the whole room rather charming.</p>
<p>He surprised himself by sleeping for two hours solid, waking only when he heard a soft knock on the door. He sat up and called out an invitation to whoever was in the hall. Bucky opened the door and smiled.</p>
<p>“Did you get any sleep?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Enough, I think,” Steve said, rubbing his eyes. “Did you get any rest?”</p>
<p>Bucky shrugged as he slipped through the doorway. He closed the door and leaned against it. “Long time since I’ve been in this room,” he said.</p>
<p>“It’s a nice room,” Steve said. “Big.” It was easily as large as the main room of the apartment Steve had shared with his mother.</p>
<p>“Becca got the room on the other side of the house,” Bucky said. “It’s just as big. Wash got the small room in the other corner. I think he prefers it. It’s got the best view. And it’s the easiest to sneak out of.”</p>
<p>“Really? Did you do much sneaking around when you were living here?”</p>
<p>“Course not,” Bucky said with an un-self-conscious grin. “I was completely above-board. An angel. I never disobeyed my parents. I was an ideal child.”</p>
<p>Steve giggled. “I’m sure you were.”</p>
<p>“Just don’t ask my parents about it,” Bucky said. Their laughter turned gentle and Bucky asked, “Can I sit?” He gestured at the mattress.</p>
<p>Steve nodded. “It’s your house.” He sat up straight, his feet on the floor.</p>
<p>Bucky sat next to Steve, the barest gap between their thighs. “We’re real close to getting out of here,” he said. “You holding up okay?”</p>
<p>“Of course, Buck,” Steve said, bumping his arm against Bucky’s. “We’ve come this far. Can’t go back now.”</p>
<p>He took a deep breath, then said to the wall, “I’m kind of freaking out about my dad. I can’t believe he’s been in jail and no one told me.”</p>
<p>“When would they have told you?”</p>
<p>“I call home every Sunday.”</p>
<p>“You do?”</p>
<p>“I’m a good son. Of course, I do.” He shot a look at Steve from the corner of his eye. Steve leaned against him companionably, accepting the lighter mood. “Doesn’t mean I’m okay about leaving town with him in jail. Jesus…” He shook his head.</p>
<p>“I’m sure he’s got a plan,” Steve said. “If he’s anything like his son, he knows what he’s got himself in for and he’s going to get himself through it. I notice your mom isn’t falling apart. She went ahead with your sister’s baby shower. Whether or not she knows what your dad’s planning, she’s keeping up her end.”</p>
<p>“Thanks. Still feels like I could have done something. At least, I probably could have last week, before all this happened.”</p>
<p>Steve frowned. “You mean, while Pierce was demanding all the attention and we were just trying to stay out of his way?”</p>
<p>Bucky huffed a dispirited laugh. “Yeah. I still feel like I should have been able to do something… Anyway, I thought I’d show you this.” Bucky took out his cellphone, unlocked it and opened an app. He showed Steve the loading screen for Ant Farm. “I’ve been using this to cover our tracks, send breadcrumbs to the police leading them away from here. This isn’t just a highly addictive game with something like five million downloads or whatever. There’s an underlying program that jumps into the Internet through vulnerable machines.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t everything have a password? A firewall?” Steve remembered hearing something about those things, but he never had the chance – or the reason – to know how those things worked.</p>
<p>“Not everything,” Bucky said. He glanced around the room. “Okay, not in here, but…you know how there are refrigerators that send alerts to your phone when you’re out of milk or something? Or your laundry sends an alert that the washing’s done? Or your car says it needs an oil change?”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. “I never had anything that fancy.”</p>
<p>“You lived in the White House.”</p>
<p>“It’s not like they gave me free reign over the kitchen, put me in charge of shopping, or let me do my own laundry.” He rolled his eyes at Bucky. “Let’s not even discuss whether or not I know how to drive a car.”</p>
<p>Bucky frowned at him, then smirked at himself. “Right. Well, there’s also computers in medical equipment, like MRIs and blood pressure cuffs and pulse ox…whatevers,” he was clearly stumbling for examples, “all that stuff in an ICU or a surgical suite. Oh – and everyone’s security system and fancy doorbells.” Steve was pretty sure his expression was blank, because he didn’t know what could be so fancy about a doorbell. Bucky just nodded his head encouragingly. “Yeah. All those things communicate via the internet. In fact, it’s called the Internet of Things and it’s just expanding all the time and none of those things have passwords or firewalls. It’s a huge security issue.” He shrugged. Steve decided to express some mild alarm. “Anyway, this app exploits those issues to get around existing firewalls and get things done. Turns off security systems. Downloads data. Sets up keystroke counters and turns on web cameras and GPS trackers and sends all the info… let’s just say it all goes somewhere else. Not-quite SHIELD. It’s SHIELD-adjacent, though.”</p>
<p>Steve thought for a moment. “Wow. You really are a spy. You really have been spying on the FS. You aren’t loyal to… them.” He was going to say ‘Pierce,’ but it seemed ludicrous to accuse Bucky of being loyal to the man he hadn’t tried to save – was it really only the day before? He hadn’t realized until that moment that he’d been harboring a tiny amount of suspicious fear that Bucky was setting him up for some purpose, that Bucky couldn’t actually be trusted. That his attraction to Bucky meant he’d be susceptible to believing any lie the Alpha might cook up.</p>
<p>“Yes, Steve,” Bucky said with a gentle smile. “I’m a spy. I’ve always been loyal to the US. Everything I told you in Pierce’s bedroom the other morning is true.” He took a deep breath. “Basically, I joined the army out of high school. They saw potential in me, got me an education, put me through officer training. I got my lieutenant’s bars, then the split happened. A lot of us were confused, angry. There was conflict all over the place. Arguments, fistfights, insubordination.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t an easy time. None of this has been easy, but… we really didn’t know what to expect. A lot of us couldn’t believe the worst was actually happening. No one thinks they’re living through history, you know?”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. He did know.</p>
<p>“They gave us an unofficial ‘drop dead’ date. We could leave without being considered AWOL if we left before then. If we were still on base after that date, well, we’d be considered loyal to Pierce.” He shrugged. “I was going to leave. I was having a drink with some of my guys who were also going to leave when someone pulled me aside. Asked me some questions. We met up the next day.” Bucky hesitated. Steve listened intently. “One thing led to another and I agreed to remain in the FSA. I agreed to be a spy.”</p>
<p>“Who was it? Who talked to you?”</p>
<p>Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “I really shouldn’t say. I don’t know what they’re doing now, and I don’t want to risk anything. Not that I don’t trust you. I guess I’m being superstitious.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Steve assured him. “You don’t have to answer any of my questions. You don’t even have to tell me this.”</p>
<p>“But I want to.” Bucky’s expression was serious, intense, and focused on Steve. “I want you to know what happened. I want you to know you can trust me.”</p>
<p>“I do trust you, Bucky.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean really trust me. You’re putting a lot of faith in me and I want you to know it’s not for nothing.”</p>
<p>“I trust you, Bucky.” Steve shifted to face him better. Why was he still asking about trust? Did he suspect Steve was holding back information? He couldn’t have overheard Steve’s conversation with Freddie in the kitchen. They had whispered. The siblings had been outside. “To the end of the line. Like you said. You’re a good person. I know this. You won’t let me down.”</p>
<p>Bucky smiled weakly, but shifted to face Steve better, too. “You’re a good person, too.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled back. “How’d you end up in DC?”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, that took some time,” Bucky said. “A couple years. I wasn’t given an assignment, not a real assignment, for a while. I think they sent me on test runs first. Stuff they said mattered that probably didn’t. You know, to test my resolve and my loyalty, figure out what I could do, hone my skills, and also figure out the best way to use me. I just had to focus on being the best officer I could for the FSA. I got promoted to captain, even. Then the Battle of Atlanta came.” He sighed. “I was given a head’s up about that, the where and the when and how they wanted me to thwart the attack. Be a hero. Get myself noticed by the press. US forces came up from the Gulf to infiltrate the city and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time doing maneuvers with my team.” Bucky shrugged. “That’s what it looked like, anyway. Our smaller force managed to defeat the larger US army, though most of those guys got away during their sudden retreat. We captured the ones we were meant to, though, the ones who needed to be inside the FS.”</p>
<p>Steve wanted to know but didn’t want to ask about casualties. He’d heard about the Battle of Atlanta – everyone had. It was a huge victory for the FSA. “You were a hero,” he said, resting a hand on Bucky’s upper arm. “They called you ‘Captain America.’” He felt the muscle flex as Bucky clenched and unclenched his fist.</p>
<p>“I don’t feel like a hero. I never felt that way. We had to – I had to – kill…” He shook his head. “I hated it. But it got me the recognition I needed. They jumped my rank, made me a colonel. Sent me to Washington. That got me in front of the right people. People like Coulson and Dr. Killian and others who were looking for the right candidates for the project.”</p>
<p>“And they chose you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. After a lot of interviews and tests I didn’t know were tests.”</p>
<p>“That happens to you a lot, huh?”</p>
<p>Bucky shot him a confused look. It cleared after a moment and he grinned self-deprecatingly. “I suppose it does. Anyway, I won out over all the other guys. It was just me and Rumlow and some other guy at the end there. Who now that I think about it, was probably Schmidt all along. Makes sense. I only saw his redacted file. The guy’s physical scores were pitiful, but his intelligence was off the charts.”</p>
<p>“I never heard them discuss any third candidate. But it doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “Didn’t seem like Dr. Schmidt was ever really planning on sharing the serum.”</p>
<p>“Guess not.”</p>
<p>“So about the app?”</p>
<p>“Right,” Bucky said, looking back at his phone. “So the main ant, Ant-thony, lives in this Victorian style home. The goal is to avoid the FBI while accomplishing different tasks and unlocking different rooms and areas of the house. That’s what other people see. My login gets me to a different version of the game. I mean, it still looks the same, it just does specific things on specific levels or events. Like, when Ant-thony plays the drums, that’s sending an SOS signal that means ‘come get me, no rush, not in danger.’ If I engage the FBI agent, that means I’m about to be taken into custody. Going into the phone stops all external communication devices in a thirty-foot radius. It’s basically a ‘cone of silence.’ There are other things.”</p>
<p>“Neat program.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Guy who wrote it is one of those annoying geniuses you can’t help but like.”</p>
<p>They sat in silence for a moment longer before Bucky shut the game off and offered to lay down with him until sunset. Steve went willingly, cuddling in close, breathing in the log-cabin-fire smell that promised security, coziness, warmth. He almost went back to sleep but then Becca was knocking on the door. Minutes later, they had washed up and were downstairs, saying their goodbyes and hugging Winifred and Wash before creeping out in the fading twilight to Becca’s car. She’d already piled her baby shower gifts into the passenger and back seat before laying an afghan across her otherwise empty trunk. Winifred gave them a throw pillow from the couch to put under their heads and Bucky climbed in first. He opened his arms to Steve who clambered in after him. They spooned up tight. Becca pointed out the emergency trunk release. Wash handed them a small flashlight. Bucky checked his weapons. Winifred draped another blanket over them and then handed Steve a container of chocolate peanut butter cookies, a meaningful look in her eyes. She kissed their cheeks and wished them well. She wiped her eyes as Wash carefully shut the trunk over them.</p>
<p>The ride started slow. They heard music, steel guitars and a man’s voice. Bucky’s lips were by Steve’s ears and he whispered, “This is the driveway. She’s stopping to get onto the road. It’s all right.” He wrapped a hand around Steve’s waist underneath the blanket. Steve could feel the weight of a gun of some sort pressing into his stomach.  They shared a tense moment, barely breathing, and then the engine picked up again and they drove on for several minutes, the country music all they could hear.</p>
<p>“And now we’re on the road,” Bucky said. “Next stop, the repair shop.”</p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“They live in the apartment above the repair shop,” Bucky said. “They’re saving money for the baby.”</p>
<p>The rural roads weren’t in the best condition. They found themselves being jolted and jostled, slamming into the roof and back onto the floor of the trunk. Bucky soon wrapped himself around Steve’s body in an effort to protect him from the worst of the bumps. The trunk smelled a little strange, Steve thought, then realized it was the scent from the woolen afghans. It was also dark, but Steve didn’t want to turn on the flashlight. He had a paranoid thought that someone would see it outside.</p>
<p>“I like your Mom,” Steve said in an effort to distract himself from the dark, enclosed, funny-smelling space.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?”</p>
<p>“She seems really nice.”</p>
<p>“She is.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Bump-jolt-slam!</em>
</p>
<p>“Ouch!”</p>
<p>“It won’t be long now,” Bucky said. “I’m so sorry. You’re doing great, though.”</p>
<p>The car slowed to a stop, but the engine still puttered along. Steve shifted to try to get more comfortable. It wasn’t easy. He tried to stretch his legs, but even though he was short, he couldn’t quite manage it. He didn’t know how Bucky was handling the cramped quarters.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about me,” Steve said. “I’ve been through a lot worse than this.”</p>
<p>“Than this? Really?”</p>
<p>“Well, I did once have to clean off my bonded husband’s dick while my secret lover gave a report about a trip to Japan, so I’d say yes. Yes, I have.”</p>
<p>Bucky made a noise, then pressed his face into the side of Steve’s neck. Steve could feel his hot breath panting rhythmically against his skin. It took Steve a moment longer to realize, “Are you <em>laughing?</em>”</p>
<p>“I’m trying not to,” Bucky said.</p>
<p>“Oh, my God,” Steve groaned. “Someone’s going to hear you!”</p>
<p>“May-maybe B-B-Becca,” Bucky said, laughing as he tried to whisper, “can tell them it’s one of those giggling toys.”</p>
<p>“The way you laugh? Not likely,” Steve snarked. He hid his smile a moment before realizing Bucky couldn’t see him in the dark. He turned his face upward, resting his cheek against Bucky’s. It felt good to joke about it and better to have Bucky react with laughter instead of censure. It felt a little like lancing a boil.</p>
<p>“You little shit,” Bucky said, still laughing, “you’re going to get us caught!”</p>
<p>The car started up again. “Am not,” Steve replied pertly. “I’m not the one laughing.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll show you laughing,” Bucky said, reaching a hand up under Steve’s shirt to tickle his ribs.</p>
<p>The car stopped short and Bucky almost rolled over Steve, squashing him.</p>
<p>“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, all levity gone.</p>
<p>“Fine, I’m fine,” Steve said. He patted Bucky’s hand then pressed it close to his body, the only way he could hug him back.</p>
<p>They arrived at the auto repair shop five or possibly forty-five minutes later, Steve wasn’t at all sure. The car had been stopped for a while, engine off, before Becca opened the trunk, her unimpressed expression the first thing Steve could focus on.</p>
<p>“You two are a menace,” she said flatly. “You’re just lucky no one was around to hear you two jackasses cracking up.” She reached in to pull their blanket off and to help Steve carefully step out of the trunk.</p>
<p>“You could hear us? The whole time?” Steve was horrified. He stretched carefully, then looked around to see they were inside an auto repair garage with three bays, hydraulic lifts, stacks of tool chests and oil cans and accessories and spare parts, a door into a darkened office, and stairs leading up somewhere. The bays were closed. The only light was from the suspended fixtures above them. The faded sign centered above the generously-sized auto bays read: <strong>BARNES AUTOMOTIVE REPAIR</strong> – <em>We Know What That Noise Is!</em></p>
<p>Bucky stepped out of the trunk by himself. “Sorry, Bec,” he said. “Just trying to provide distraction.”</p>
<p>Becca’s unimpressed look faded into compassionate concern. “You okay, Steve? We’ll get you something to eat. You’ll feel better. And no. Couldn’t hear what you were saying. Just Bucky carrying on like a hyena.”</p>
<p>Steve tried to fix his hair. “Do I look like I’m starving or something? Everyone wants to feed me.”</p>
<p>“You’re pregnant,” Becca replied. “Aren’t you always starving? I can’t stop eating.” She snapped her fingers at Bucky. “Don’t you say a word.”</p>
<p>Bucky put his hands on his hips. “Wasn’t going to do anything more than say that hyenas get a bad rap. You want some help unloading your car?”</p>
<p>“That’d be nice,” she said, “but Mark’s coming home soon. You can help him. We shouldn’t be lifting, you know. Puts a strain on the system.” She lay her arm across Steve’s shoulders and he tried to look angelic and harmless. “How can we get you feeling better?” she asked him, steering him toward the stairs. “Would you like a shower? A hot bath? Something different to wear? I might have something that would fit you. I’m clearly not wearing my smaller clothes right now.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Soon, Mark had come home, and he and Bucky had emptied Becca’s car. By the time they’d gotten all the gifts squared away in the small bedroom they’d set aside as the nursery, Becca had heated up some frozen chicken in a pan with some sliced peppers and onions, doused everything in barbecue sauce and served it all up on split rolls like an open-faced sandwich. Steve had showered and managed to find a truly comfortable pair of Becca’s jeans and a large t-shirt advertising the Indiana State Fair of 2004. They caught up Mark over dinner and he agreed to their plan. Meanwhile, Becca washed their clothes and repacked the go-bag.</p>
<p>“If you’re sure,” he said. “I mean, it’s a delivery truck. Not exactly comfortable riding. Let me text someone I know over in Hannibal. Set something up just in case they check. It’s off-cycle, but she’s always asking for any extra wildflower honey.” He shrugged. “I’ll bring her a case in addition to her usual order.”</p>
<p>“She’s after your honey, is she?” Becca grinned, nudging his shoulder with her loose fist.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Mark looked confused. “It’s good honey. What do you-? Oh! Oh, no. Your brother knows how to safely dispose of a body. And then there’s Bucky. I’d be crazy to cheat on you, baby-cakes.” They laughed together and kissed. Bucky felt slightly nauseated, mostly happy for his sister. Mark was clearly blind to all but Becca’s best qualities. He wondered if there was someone like that for him, and if that someone might be Steve. Or was this all just a heightened response to traumatic circumstances? Was any of this real between them? Could he say that he knew Steve at all? Did Steve actually know anything about Bucky?</p>
<p>To distract himself, Bucky asked Mark a few pertinent questions about blankets, tarps, and timetables, and if he could get some cheese to take with him when they went.</p>
<p>They were in bed by nine. Steve was on the couch and Bucky on a cushion of blankets and sleeping bags on the floor right next to him. They didn’t chat, and at some point, both of them fell asleep. At two-thirty, Mark woke Bucky up with coffee. Grateful, he raced through a five-minute shower, dressed in a fresh outfit, and got Steve ready to go as well. Becca came out of her bedroom, bleary-eyed with her hair sticking up on one side.</p>
<p>“I love you, Bucky,” she told him, hugging him tight. “Mom’s been really worried. I know you know that. So has Wash. He kept threatening to go to DC just so he could see you. Dad’s proud of you, too, you know. He’s going to be so proud when he finds out what you’ve been doing.”</p>
<p>“I know, Bec,” he replied, holding onto her just as much. “I miss all of you so much. I want to hold my little niblet, so you keep doing a good job making them, okay?”</p>
<p>Becca nodded, pulled away, then hugged Steve. “Good luck,” she said to him. “When this is all done, please come back here. I want you to know we’re not awful people. We’re just trying to deal with our jailbird dad and keep Bucky safe. And now you, too, of course.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think you’re awful,” Steve told her. “I think you’re wonderfully normal.”</p>
<p>“We’ve got to go now,” Mark said. “It’s forty minutes to the dairy.”</p>
<p>Mark put the back seats down flat in his SUV, and Bucky and Steve were able to stretch out for the much easier ride to the Proctor Dairy. Once there, it was short work to organize the refrigerated dairy truck, get a half dozen insulated blankets, and figure out a way for him and Steve to sit comfortably inside and protected from the infrared sensors used by the border patrol. Mark’s father was there, a quiet man with a long face who accepted Bucky and Steve’s presence with supreme equanimity. On the ride over, Mark had explained to Steve that his parents were ‘pretty much still Mennonites,’ and didn’t hold with a lot of modern conveniences, much less with the current political situation. To Mennonites, Omegas were a special gift from God, precious and rare while they were fertile, wise and revered as they aged. To Steve, Mr. Proctor was deferential, polite, and considerate. He made a fresh pot of decaf coffee and poured it into a large thermos, then prepared a hot water bottle, all so that Steve might experience the long drive to the river in as much comfort as possible.</p>
<p>When they were finally sorted out, before Mr. Proctor helped Steve into the chilly delivery truck, he kissed the elderly man on the cheek in thanks. Mark just grinned at them both.</p>
<p>The ride through Illinois would have been dull had not Mark turned on the satellite radio to an oldies station. Bucky sat on a box, wedged into the corner, with Steve cuddled between his legs. They had the insulated blankets piled up beneath and wrapped around them. Steve had been given a light brown woolen hat with the words PROCTOR’S DAIRY stitched across it in red letters. He held the thermos in his lap and took sips from it every so often, offering some to Bucky, even though he kept declining. He did accept the cookies, though. They were delicious.</p>
<p>At one point, Bucky grew alert, startling Steve out of a light doze. “This is that song,” he whispered. “My parents’ song. Listen.”</p>
<p>Steve hummed a tiny inquiry, so Bucky gathered him up closer, put his lips to his ear and whisper-sang, “<em>all-l the while… you belong to me-e… See the marketplace in old Algiee-ers… send me photographs and souvenii-irs… but remember, when a dream ap-pe-ears… you belong to mee-ee…</em>” He swayed with the cadence of the van, the slow and sensual beat of the music, and sang softly, allowing the melody and lyrics to say something he hadn’t yet said, to hint at emotions he hadn’t yet acknowledged. It seemed to him that maybe Steve was agreeable to Bucky’s soppy feelings. He wriggled himself a little closer in Bucky’s embrace and held onto Bucky’s arm a little more securely.</p>
<p>The back of the delivery truck was windowless, but there was a vent in the roof that emitted a decent amount of air and flashes of light from the highway. They could hear Mark as he counted off the miles, the music on the radio, the smooth hum of the engine. Bucky’s arms remained wrapped around Steve’s body as they rocked quietly together with the rhythm of the road.</p>
<p>Then Mark knocked on the barrier between the cab and their part of the truck. They were at the checkpoint.</p>
<p>They couldn’t really hear what the border patrol officer was asking. They could only hear Mark as he responded, “Just making a special delivery in Hannibal, then coming right back. Here’s my passport, driver’s license, state ID, business license, and the customer order.”</p>
<p>Then: “No, just cheese, jams and honey. We don’t have ice cream yet, but we’re working on it. My mother’s got a good recipe for raspberry ripple. It’s got this chocolate fudge running through it – anyway. Just the cheese, the honey and the jam.”</p>
<p>Then: “Yeah, that’s us. That’s our cheese. You like it? Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”</p>
<p>Then: “Hey, you, uh, want some? Just for yourself? Just a wedge of our special sheep’s milk cheese, Crown of Glory. It’s aged three months, which means it’s legal in the US. It’s creamy and soft and a little buttery.”</p>
<p>Then: “It’s good, right? How about you take the rest of that home to your family. No, no. Keep doing your job. Scan the truck. I only mean to offer you some since you’re such a fan. This stuff is expensive only because people are willing to pay that much for it. Sheep eat grass, you know, and that grows for free.”</p>
<p>Then: “You sure? You’re a good Alpha, Roy. Thank you. See you in a couple hours!”</p>
<p>The engine roared back to life and the truck jolted forward.</p>
<p>Bucky thought he heard some shouting, but Mark kept driving and driving and then they heard, and felt, the tell-tale <em>chucka-chucka-chuck… chucka-chucka-chuck</em> of the tires going over the rivets of the Mark Twain Memorial Bridge. He held Steve tighter, barely feeling Steve gripping his arms just as much. The rhythm stopped, the engine slowed down and then turned right. Another ten minutes or so and Mark stopped the truck. Steve and Bucky started to stretch their legs in the cramped space. The doors opened and Mark stood there with a smile.</p>
<p>“You sure you want me to drop you off here?”</p>
<p>“This’ll be fine,” Bucky said, guiding Steve carefully off the back of the dairy truck into a blind alley. It was maybe an hour past dawn, but the alley was still shadowed and dark. “The fewer people who know what’s going on, the better.”</p>
<p>“If you’re sure. You need anything else? Here. Don’t forget the cheese you asked for.” He handed them a small round package of Crown of Glory.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Mark,” Bucky said. “My sister knew what she was doing when she agreed to marry you.”</p>
<p>Mark laughed. “More like the other way around, honestly.” He coughed a little, clearly collecting himself. “Listen, James, when this is all over, plan to spend a lot of time at home, okay? Your family… they miss you. And I… I’d like to get to know my brother-in-law better. If that’s okay with you.”</p>
<p>“More than okay,” Bucky said, grabbing Mark in a hug.</p>
<p>“One last thing,” Mark said. “Whatever else, know that your dad has things under control.”</p>
<p>“What do you know about it?” Bucky asked, suddenly suspicious. He took a step back.</p>
<p>“Enough,” Mark replied. He casually slipped his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. “Enough to know he’s making a point by not taking the deal he got offered. Now, Becca and the others don’t know all the details and that’s for their own sanity, and they probably didn’t tell you what they did know, because you’d have a tougher time leaving if you knew. But basically, Jimmy got arrested for inciting a riot.” He held up his hands to forestall Bucky’s questions. “I’m going to be brief because I’ve got to get back on the road, but here’s what happened. Jimmy addressed a peaceful protest about the ordinance that forbade lawyers working pro bono. A couple hours later, that protest turned violent. Jimmy was already home eating dinner when some of the protestors threw some rocks at the police. The police fired back at the crowd.”</p>
<p>“Jesus,” Steve swore softly.</p>
<p>“Afterward, a couple protestors were dead, a few more seriously injured, and the organizers were arrested and charged, including your dad who, I swear, only gave a speech.” Mark shrugged. “But the police have been after him for years. Ever since they did away with public defenders, and he started taking all the defense cases he could, and mostly had to do them pro bono. He’s been winning most of them, too. The police <em>hate</em> him.”</p>
<p>“He’s winning them?”</p>
<p>Bucky glanced down at Steve. “Dad’s a good lawyer.”</p>
<p>“The best,” Mark agreed. “And yeah. If he gets in front of a jury, he has an 80% chance of getting a ‘not guilty’ verdict.”</p>
<p>“That’s amazing,” Steve said with a huge grin.</p>
<p>Bucky put his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “That’s my dad,” he said. “So, he’s making a point, is what you’re saying. He wants to get in front of a jury himself.”</p>
<p>“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” Mark said. “Freddie and Becca don’t know all the details, but they trust Jimmy. So should you.”</p>
<p>“You’re helping him, huh?”</p>
<p>“I’m trying to. It’d be easier with you home,” Mark added with a shrug, “but I take it you’re doing something more important.” He looked meaningfully at Steve, who ducked his head.</p>
<p>“It’s all important,” Bucky replied.</p>
<p>“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Mark said, hugging Bucky again fiercely. “You sure you got everything you need?”</p>
<p>“We’re good. Thank you so much for doing this,” Bucky said. He patted his jacket where he felt the small round of Crown of Glory in his pocket. He knew just who he was going to give it to, assuming he came through. “You get into any trouble, Mark, I’ll do whatever I have to do to get you out of it, okay?”</p>
<p>Mark nodded, gave Steve a gentle hug, then shut the doors of the van. Bucky and Steve watched the dairy truck back out of the alley and rejoin the early morning traffic.</p>
<p>“Hungry?”</p>
<p>“Starving,” Steve said. “Let’s find a decent place.”</p>
<p>“All right.”</p>
<p>Hand in hand, they walked through Hannibal. Not thirty minutes later, they were sitting at a counter for breakfast, watching a grizzled Alpha manage the large grill while cracking jokes with his largely Beta wait staff. Bucky dropped a 100% tip when they left after two hours. They ambled through the more touristy section of Hannibal, sat on a bench in a public park, wandered through the public library. Every thirty minutes, Bucky stopped to play a round of Ant Farm. By eleven, Steve had taken over the game. He found the game hero, Ant-thony, to be entirely adorable and heroic as he navigated the treacherous terrain of the three-story Victorian house. Bucky had set it up to automatically charge his credit card for in-game purchases and he gave Steve full leave to buy extra skills whenever he liked, as long as he had Ant-thony play the drums at least once every thirty minutes or so.</p>
<p>They spent a couple hours in a public park. At one point, Steve realized that he had somehow unlocked a special level called ‘Ant-ique Clock.’ Intrigued, he opened the level, but all it seemed Ant-thony was able to do was climb into the grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway of the house and crawl around the clockface. The clock hands were pointing to 4 o’clock, and Steve was able to move it to 5:30, and then it popped back to 4. He showed it to Bucky, who just sighed a little.</p>
<p>“That’s our pickup window,” he explained. “Now we find a good pickup site.”</p>
<p>They visited a sandwich shop for a late lunch, got on and then off a bus, then walked another hour or so before finding themselves just outside of the city limits. There was a field, surrounded by trees, some cows in the distance. Bucky helped Steve hop the fence and they started walking through the grass. The sky was clouding over, suggesting a storm was coming in. Bucky made a shelter under a tree with the two insulated Proctor Dairy blankets he’d added to his go-bag. They sat in their makeshift lean-to and nibbled on the snacks they’d purchased in Hannibal. Everything had been accomplished in between continuous rounds of Ant Farm. Now the cookies were gone, the Tupperware container was safely stored in Steve’s backpack.</p>
<p>“So… this is our pickup site?” Steve got the nerve to ask late in the afternoon.</p>
<p>“Yup,” Bucky said, looking around the field.</p>
<p>“And… what are we waiting for? Shouldn’t we be closer to the road?”</p>
<p>“This is where the app said to go. Don’t worry. We’ll know it when it happens,” Bucky explained. By six, he was making noises about leaving to get more food. Night had fallen and the temperature was dropping. He kept checking his phone, mindlessly playing Ant Farm, staring at the single bar of available signal. Steve looked around the field and up at the sky, found familiar shapes in the clouds, and wished, for the first time in months, for a sketchbook and pencil. He stretched out and tried to revel in the fact that he was in the US at last.</p>
<p>A little while later, Steve had been drifting toward sleep, his head next to Bucky’s thigh, when he heard something else. A faint buzzing, like a plane engine. Except it seemed too close to the ground. Was it a helicopter? Maybe a toy plane? He pushed himself up on his elbows and asked, “Buck? Do you hear that? That low buzzing sound?” The field was a shimmery dark wave of dancing grass with black trees bobbing and weaving in the suddenly gusting wind.</p>
<p>Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand. “Yeah… I hear it.”</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>They could both hear the engine noise now, growing louder, coming from above. Not a helicopter. A drone? Were they about to be attacked? If so, by what?</p>
<p>Well, Steve wasn’t going to die while laying on his ass. He got to his feet. Almost immediately, Bucky’s strong arm barred Steve from stepping forward. It was dark. Cloudy. He heard a dog barking in the far distance. Suddenly from above them came a wide floodlight shining down on the grassy field dirt. The engine noise grew a little louder, but it was not quite loud enough to be a helicopter. Still, it was way too loud to be a drone. The two of them watched, Steve pressing in behind Bucky, as leaves and dirt were blown into the air, and the circle of light closed tighter and tighter as the thing descended. The reflective thing, metallic, shiny, not shaped like a vehicle at all, but, incredibly, shaped like a person, like a man made of iron.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love and hate this chapter in equal measure.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. He Is Iron Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nothing bad can happen in the good ol' US of A. (Right?)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony Stark was a genius pain in the ass, but Bucky loved him anyway.</p>
<p>“You son of a bitch! You had us terrified!” he shouted as he burst forward. “What the fuck do you mean, coming in here like that? And what is that thing? Don’t tell me you’re the flying robot?!”</p>
<p>The suit of iron had split in half, front to back, to allow Tony Stark himself to step out onto the grassy field. Bizarrely, he wore flip-flops, red and gold striped basketball shorts, and a stained wifebeater t-shirt. “Colonel Barnes, I presume?” he said with an ostentatiously fake British accent. He bowed with a flourish of his hand and then leaned into Bucky’s welcoming hug. “How are you? And how else was I supposed to get here? Wherever here is. Where is here?” He looked around, squinting into the dark. “You know, you can see a lot more with night vision.” He forced his eyes open wider, then relaxed and smiled at Bucky. “Good to see you,” he said sincerely. “Long time, all that.”</p>
<p>“Jesus,” Bucky said, overwhelmed with just how good it felt to see Tony, Tony of the Master Plan, Tony of the Wonderful Toys, Tony of the Magical Refilling Bottles of Alcohol.</p>
<p>Tony held up a hand. “Just ‘Tony,’ please. Or ‘Mr. Stark,’ if you’re feeling go inclined. I’d say ‘Master’ but I’m afraid that has some awkward connotations.”</p>
<p>“Flying robot? Seriously? Is this why we had to meet way out here? We’ve been waiting for hours. Where the fuck were you? And what the fuck is up with that outfit? Were you drunk when you picked it out or something?” The questions poured out of Bucky like overexcited champagne. Later, he might feel embarrassed about his reaction, but right now, he didn’t care.</p>
<p>Tony took a step back. “First, I was stuck in Virginia fighting this little thing called a ‘civil war,’ although how they can call it ‘civil’ when there’s all that killing and bloodshed, I don’t know. Two, it gets hot in there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the iron suit. “And C, I haven’t been drunk in eleven months and three days, plus or minus a few hours. It really depends on when you start counting. Is it from the last drink you took, the moment you pass out, or the moment you wake up after and find out your yacht is being boarded by Somali pirates and the last thing you remember is flying to Fiji?”</p>
<p>Bucky could only blink at him. “You went back to Fiji? Why?”</p>
<p>“Who knows?” Tony slapped Bucky’s shoulder and smiled. “It’s good to see you, too.” Then he seemed to finally take notice of Steve. Bucky had known Tony a long time, long enough to know that Tony never missed a detail, so if he pretended to ignore a person, it was for one of two reasons: they made him angry or they made him nervous. The trick to knowing which would be made clear by the next words out of his mouth. “Why, it’s Little Lady Pierce, all the way from her palace in DC. How enchanting! May I say, you really know how to rock full-length veil. Those pictures were outstanding. Tasteful and hot.” Compliments phrased insultingly? Tony was definitely nervous.</p>
<p>“It’s nice to meet you, Mister... Stark, is it?”</p>
<p>Bucky turned to see Steve politely hold out his hand. Tony just stared at it like Steve was holding out a screaming baby or a melted ice cream. After a moment, Steve dropped his hand and glanced at Bucky, then looked down. Tony turned to Bucky and said, “How does he not know who I am?” To Steve, he said, “Yes, Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist. Star of the number-one downloaded amateur porn on the Internet.”</p>
<p>That didn’t sound right to Bucky. He asked, “Amateur?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t paid for it,” Tony said quickly.</p>
<p>“No, I mean,” Bucky said, “what happened to ‘number one downloaded porn?’ You didn’t use to say ‘amateur.’”</p>
<p>“Ugh, fine,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Some jack-off uploaded outtakes from that awful Crossbones movie and knocked me out of the number one spot and Pepper won’t let me make another to retake my title.”</p>
<p>“Well, Pepper’s smart,” Bucky said. “But that’s not why you’re here. Seriously, Tony. Where have you been? I’ve been sending distress calls all day.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know,” Tony replied, all business. “Kind of annoying when you’re dodging anti-aircraft to be serenaded by Crosby, Stills &amp; Nash singing ‘Suite Judy Blue Eyes.’ Kind of hard to stop doing the ‘do-do-do-do’ parts. Kind of irritating to everyone listening. Including yourself. Er, myself. I annoyed myself, is what I’m saying, and it’s all because of that god-damned stupid app Scott made that went off every time you sent a distress call. Do you know how many millions of people have downloaded that stupid game? Over two hundred million, that’s how many. Do you know how much money that bastard made off that app? I don’t either because he won’t tell me and I can’t be bothered to hack his account and find out, but it’s a lot. He wrote it in a weekend, James. A <em>weekend.</em> I mean, I gave him the spyware. But <em>he wrote the rest of it</em>.” He huffed a little. Bucky waited, knowing Tony the way he did. His knowledge was rewarded a moment later when Tony continued. “And now we’re inundated with data from almost a quarter billion people all over the planet and, sure, a lot of them are militia and insurrectionists and general bad guys, so that part’s good. We’re passing on all that data, but… ants, James. ANTS! It’s a game about God-damned <em>ants!</em>”</p>
<p>Bucky hesitated, then carefully placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I thought the color matching game was inventive.”</p>
<p>Tony heaved a giant sigh. “Limited replay-ability and no need for in-game purchases. It was a dud.”</p>
<p>“You’ll get ‘em next time, champ!” Bucky gave Tony’s shoulder a little punch.</p>
<p>Steve coughed a little and said quietly, “I think Ant-thony’s kind of cute.”</p>
<p>Tony narrowed his eyes. “Traitor,” he hissed. “Collaborator.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Bucky dropped his hand off Tony’s shoulder. “That’s uncalled-for.” He took a half-step in-between Tony and Steve.</p>
<p>Tony sighed again. “Yeah, maybe. Fine. Huh.” His eyes narrowed and he glanced between Bucky and Steve. “JARVIS,” he called out over his shoulder, “change Col. Barnes’s emergency notification song to ‘Muskrat Love.’” He grinned. “Let’s get to it, shall we? You know, Backwoods Bucky, if you’d bothered to have a campfire, I might have found you a little earlier. Like, ten minutes earlier, but still. I had to do scans. Speaking of, what’d you do to your arm?”</p>
<p>“This?” Bucky pointed at his left arm. “Burned it a little, but nothing serious.”</p>
<p>Tony rolled his eyes and Bucky finally pulled off his jacket and pushed up his short sleeve to prove there was no permanent damage. Tony produced a small device and held it over the injury spot. “Odd… JARVIS doesn’t have any answers, either, but that’s not normal scan results.”</p>
<p>“Like I said, it’s nothing serious. Just itches a little. What is that?”</p>
<p>“Medical scanner,” Tony said, deliberately casual. “Prototype I’m working on. Think Star Trek medical tricorder.” Apparently done with Bucky’s arm, Tony turned the scanner to Steve, who flinched slightly.</p>
<p>“Easy, Tony,” Bucky said, watching him like a hawk. After a long moment with the device focused on Steve’s abdomen, Tony just grinned and shut it off. Bucky had to ask. “Is he okay?” Steve glanced at him, then looked back down. Bucky hated the deferential way Steve behaved around strange Alphas. He’d have to work to break him of the reaction, but it would take time.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Pierce’s baby-maker is perfectly healthy for an Omega in his condition.” Tony grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes.</p>
<p>“Great. Tell me. How is the war really going?” Bucky asked. “This suit, by the way. We have to talk about it because holy shit, Tony.”</p>
<p>He waved a hand at it. “I’ll give you the tour later. Basically, your little friends have managed to blow up the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel thing as well as mine the rest of the bay and most of the waterways, so we’re stuck going up through Virginia itself to get to DC, which isn’t that easy. Those hicks are seriously entrenched. That’s where I’ve been. Doing recon, getting intel, providing distractions. Maryland is still under their complete control. Virginia is falling, but it’s taking time. They’re getting tougher, better organized, the closer we get to the capitol.”</p>
<p>“We heard rumors,” Bucky said, “about some guy with a bow and arrow?”</p>
<p>Tony grinned. “Hawkeye! He used to be a carny, believe it or not. He can hit literally anything with any weapon, but he prefers the compound bow because it’s stealthy, he says. He’s our advance team.”</p>
<p>“The whole team?”</p>
<p>Tony shrugged. “If he had anyone with him, they’d just slow him down. Listen, I can’t stay all night. JARVIS,” he called over his shoulder again, “what’s the status on that Uber?”</p>
<p>Bucky listened, but didn’t hear any response. Even so, Tony nodded. “Okay. Your car’s going to be here in three minutes. You need to go. It’ll take you to the local airport. I’ve chartered a plane for you. That will take you to HQ. Give them this,” Tony held out a plastic card and a wad of cash, “and they’ll know it’s you.”</p>
<p>“Can you take these?” Bucky reached into his pocket and produced the collection of test tubes he’d been carefully preserving since he stole them from the lab the day before.</p>
<p>Tony’s eyes lit up. “Is that it? The miracle?”</p>
<p>Bucky shrugged. “It’s something.”</p>
<p>He looked genuinely regretful. “No can do. I told Rhodey I was going for cigarettes. I really should get back. But you have an ID, some real money, and transportation.” He grinned, then pulled Bucky into a hug. “It’s good to see you. Won’t be long now.” To Steve, he said, “Nice to meet you in person. Maybe next time we can discuss your life choices over dinner.”</p>
<p>Bucky slipped the test tubes back into their padded pocket before folding his arms. “What about Pepper?”</p>
<p>Tony was all innocence. “She’s not necessarily opposed to inviting an Omega into our life together. It would spare her having to take maternity leave or risking her perfect figure.”</p>
<p>Steve seemed to shrink a little as he crossed his arms.</p>
<p>“You think about it, Blondie. See you soon, Bucky! You’ll be in my prayers!”</p>
<p>“You’re an atheist, asshole!” Bucky shouted back.</p>
<p>“Then she’ll really listen to me, won’t she!” Tony laughed as he got resealed into the iron suit, rose into the air and flew off like a meteor in reverse. In the distance, a car had pulled over to the side of the road. A confused young Alpha stood next to the open door, looking around. Bucky waved and called over to him.</p>
<p>“Ride’s here,” he told Steve, snatching up their backpacks and the blankets. “Let’s go.” Three steps later, he swore. “God damn it. I forgot to give him the cheese.”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The charter was like a dream. Bucky was never flying commercial again. Not even First Class was going to be good enough anymore, though he suspected Tony’s actual private plane was probably larger and fancier still. He stretched out on the plush seat, put his feet up on the cushioned footrest, and closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep for the next three hours until they landed, but his brain kept sending him images of his sister’s face, plump with pregnancy. It made him smile. She looked so happy about having a baby, and Mark was so stoic and sensible and hardworking. He’d be a good father. The kind of father a kid could rely on for reliable, ethical advice. The kind of father who would cry on your wedding day because he was so proud of you and it’d mean so much to see that glimpse of his heart that you’d remember it always. Their lucky little Omega was going to be so well-loved.</p>
<p>Bucky was happy for Wash, too, with his more than decent chance of getting through the war unscathed without having to fight, but with enough energy and strength and drive to help fix it after. His mother was safely at home with a respectable Alpha husband doing respectable lawyerly things (like get arrested protesting an unjust law, but that was just like his dad). He wished he’d been able to at least see his father in person; it was his only regret with the unexpected visit. When he saw him, he’d have to give his father a stern lecture about his life choices, just like he’d gotten when he’d wrecked his mom’s car joyriding with his friends the summer before senior year.</p>
<p>That teenage Bucky seemed so far away. He’d been invincible. Completely in love with Shelley Winterbaum, but about to lose his virginity to Michie Ingersoll. What a mess his love life had been. Not that it hadn’t been tangled since, he thought with a glance at Steve dozing off in the seat next to him. He smiled fondly at him. The smooth ride, the droning engine noise, the darkness and the hot cocoa he’d been served must have helped relax him enough to try sleeping. There was something precious about watching Steve rest while Bucky watched over him, something that made Bucky feel worthy, reliable, protective. It made him feel like a grown-up who could take care of his own life, an Alpha who could provide a good life for the right Omega.</p>
<p>Steve was the right Omega.</p>
<p>He really didn’t want to let Steve go, but eventually, he knew he would have to. They’d reach HQ at some point. Bucky would have to report in. Steve would be taken… somewhere. To medical. To somewhere comfortable so he could have his child in peace.</p>
<p>Rumlow’s child.</p>
<p>It had to be Rumlow’s.</p>
<p>The knowledge didn’t make Bucky happy, but it was more that Rumlow had broken the rules in order to do it than that his boys happened to get lucky. He’d forgone the sterility injection. He’d barged into a situation he had no rights to and took advantage of Steve’s powerlessness and Bucky’s good grace to take something that had already been denied him. It was obvious Natasha had intended Bucky to father Steve’s next baby. If it hadn’t been, she would have made sure to arrange a second sterility injection for the afternoon session. Without that second shot, Bucky was fertile all afternoon. However, since Rumlow had gotten there first, well, Rumlow got there first.</p>
<p>Not that that really mattered to him. He still wanted to be a part of Steve’s life, in whatever way he was allowed, regardless of who might be lucky enough to bond with Steve. It wouldn’t matter. He’d be pleased to be ‘Uncle Bucky,’ or ‘Mr. Bucky,’ or whatever pet name the little tykes decided on as long as he could see Steve happy, healthy and living well. It wouldn’t be the best life, his most ideal life, but he could be satisfied with the occasional visit. He could be satisfied with just knowing Steve was okay. He could be satisfied.</p>
<p>Honest.</p>
<p>It would hurt, though. Kind of like the stabbing pain he felt in his heart just thinking about Steve being happy with someone else, being loved by someone else, sleeping peacefully in someone else’s arms. It would hurt, knowing he’d had a chance with Steve and messed it all up, or maybe, honestly, he never had any chance at all. Steve, after all, hadn’t had a choice in anything that had happened to him in over a year. Who’s to say Steve would ever freely choose Bucky? He owed it to Steve to make sure he had ample choices now.</p>
<p>“You okay, Bucky? I can see the wheels turning in your brain.”</p>
<p>“Hm? What?” Bucky glanced at Steve to see him smiling at him. He was curled up against the window, turned around a little in the seat so he could look at Bucky more easily. The little cabin safety lights glowed on his face.</p>
<p>“You’re thinking about something,” Steve said. “I see these expressions on your face. You’re happy, then you’re sad. What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“Just thinking,” Bucky said. “We’ve still got two hours or so to go. We’ll land just before dawn, get our rental car, get to HQ.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled at him, peaceful and quiet. “So, you’re a real spy,” he said. “Coded signals, secret meetings. You have to go to class for that or is it something you get on-the-job training for? Would you say you now know everything there is to know about being a spy?”</p>
<p>Bucky smirked. “There’s not a lot I don’t know about it,” he replied. “You want to test me or something?”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Steve said. “Just trying to learn more about you, is all.”</p>
<p>Bucky shifted in his seat. He checked his airport-issued coffee. It had gone ice cold and was beginning to separate. The flight attendant, Mindy, glanced over at him from her refreshment station. He held up the mug and smiled. She smiled and mouthed ‘fresh pot five minutes.’ He grinned at her, then turned that grin back to Steve. “What do you want to know? You can ask me anything. I mean it, Stevie. I won’t lie to you.”</p>
<p>“Stevie?” Steve repeated, a smile playing about his lips.</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of nicknames that only gets worse after I spend time with Tony.”</p>
<p>“No worries,” Steve said, giving a little wave with his fingers. “I kind of don’t mind it when you say it. You don’t say it like I’m a girl.” He frowned. “That’s weird, right? Or sexist or something.”</p>
<p>“Well, you’re not a girl and I don’t think it’s sexist. I think it’s contextual. Your name can be whatever you want it to be, Steve or Stevie or Rainbow Dash. You say you’re not a girl and that should be enough for anyone. You’re an Omega, which is its own special thing.”</p>
<p>Steve guffawed. “You get that out of a greeting card?”</p>
<p>Bucky frowned. “I was trying to be sincere.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Steve sobered up. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s nice to see you got some snark left in you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Steve said softly. He looked down at his lap and then out the small airplane window at the starry sky. “Most people don’t care for it,” he said after a moment. “My snark, I mean. You don’t have to be the first.”</p>
<p>He reached out and laid a hand on Steve’s thigh. “I’m sure I’m not the first.”</p>
<p>They were quiet a couple more minutes before a confused Mindy came over. “I’m so sorry, sir,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what happened. I swear I had a fresh box of coffee loaded on the plane but it’s just not there.” She winced. “I can’t apologize enough. All I seem to have is water and orange juice.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just get some coffee at the airport when we land,” Bucky said. “Don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p>Mindy apologized a few more times, insisting they take several of the prepackaged sweets anyway. Bucky thanked her and let her go back to her own seat. He shifted slightly in his chair, the better to watch Steve fiddle with the hem of his shirt. Or rather, Becca’s shirt from the time he took her to the State Fair, dragged her onto every ride designed to screw with a person’s equilibrium, then laughed as she threw up. He won her three stuffed toys off the rigged midway games as an apology.</p>
<p>“Something on <em>your</em> mind?” Bucky pressed gently. “We’ve got nothing but time. May as well talk.”</p>
<p>Steve shifted, sitting more upright in his chair. He frowned slightly, then twisted his lips, looked away, took a deep breath, grabbed the armrests, then said, “If I can ask, if you can tell me, if you will tell me, what, um, what’s going to happen to me when we get to HQ?”</p>
<p>Bucky blinked at him. “Oh! Oh, of course.” He glanced toward the front of the plane. Mindy was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat laughing quietly with Tommy, the pilot of this chartered jet and her boyfriend. Thanks to the acoustics of the plane and the constant drone of the engines, he felt relatively safe in telling Steve the truth. “Sorry, I guess I forgot you wouldn’t automatically know. Anyway, you know we’re going to Nevada. We’ll land in Vegas, then meet up with Tony’s driver who’ll take us to SHIELD HQ. It’s a few hours outside of the city in the desert, but the compound is actually quite comfortable. I’ve been there twice, both times unofficially, so I know. Let’s see…” He thought a minute. “They’ll want to check you out first, probably get you started on some neonatal care, that sort of thing. They’ll want to debrief you, find out what you know, what you witnessed, what you can corroborate. They’ll compare what you say to what Natasha says, what I say, what other people say. You’ll fill in blanks, provide context, that sort of thing. And they’ll offer you therapy, which I suggest you take. You’ve been through some crazy shit. It’ll take some time to get back to feeling normal.”</p>
<p>He laughed without humor. “As if I ever felt normal.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well.” Bucky hated thinking about Steve not feeling good. “What else do you want to know?”</p>
<p>“What will I do after?”</p>
<p>“Whatever you want. You won’t have to worry about anything. You’re going to be living off SHIELD’s dime for a while and nothing has to be decided right away. They’ll get you squared away with everything: ID, clothes, bank accounts. And if they can’t, my parents would take you in in a heartbeat. You know, if you didn’t want – if I couldn’t – if that’s what you wanted.”</p>
<p>Steve held up his hand. “Got it. Okay.” He twisted hair around his fingers, tugged and let it go into a curl, then half-smiled at Bucky. “So, Tony Stark, huh?”</p>
<p>“That’s him,” Bucky said with a laugh. “He’s something of an acquired taste.”</p>
<p>“Seems you’ve acquired it.”</p>
<p>“I guess I did.” He kept grinning. “He’s a good guy. A lot more heart than most people think, and that’s kind of the way he prefers it.” He glanced at Steve. “Don’t assume he’s being honest when he’s really being defensive. He got screwed over by his dad and that did a real number on his head.”</p>
<p>“O…kay,” Steve said with a skeptical look. “You know a lot of smart people, huh.”</p>
<p>“A few,” Bucky said. “I’ve mostly been in the FS the last few years.”</p>
<p>“Not a lot of geniuses there.”</p>
<p>“Genius is everywhere,” Bucky corrected him. “Good people, now. That’s rarer.” He smiled into Steve’s eyes and said, “I happen to be looking at the best one now.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah?”</p>
<p>It was dim in the cabin, but Bucky was pretty sure Steve was blushing. “Yeah,” he said. “Never seen anyone better.”</p>
<p>Steve was definitely blushing. After a long moment, he said, “You’re crazy. I’m going to get some sleep.”</p>
<p>Bucky helped him stretch out on the well-padded reclining chair, then draped a large blanket over him. “We’ve got another hour or so,” he whispered. “Just relax. I’m right here.” Steve smiled. In a few minutes, he was making soft <em>whuffs</em> as he breathed, and Bucky thought his heart might burst from the cuteness. He turned on his side to face Steve and let his mind wander to pleasanter thoughts.</p>
<p>They landed in Nevada only ten minutes later than planned, thanks to having to go around a weather system. After they taxied off the runway, Bucky helped Steve refold their blankets and gather their belongings. He saw Mindy and Tommy talking seriously as she opened the door of the small plane. He looked down, giving them privacy. A moment later, he heard Mindy clearly say, “But why? Why can’t I go with you?”</p>
<p>“Babe…” Tommy said in the pleading tones of an aggrieved boyfriend who’d done serious time at a frat house. Feeling awkward, Bucky glanced at them, curious at what they could be arguing about and if they realized he and Steve were trying to be polite by not approaching to leave the plane but that it’d be less awkward if they were allowed to go quick. He saw Tommy say something, look back toward Bucky and Steve, then lower his voice as he continued speaking to Mindy. A moment later, Mindy looked over at them, smiled and waved them toward her.</p>
<p>“Sorry about that! Please forgive us,” she said, pushing the plane door open and taking a step back. “Just a small miscommunication on Tommy’s part. With me, not with the airport or anything. You’re free to go and enjoy your stay in Las Vegas.”</p>
<p>“Dang, Min, you can be awkward,” Tommy said with a laugh. “Thanks for choosing Southwest Charters, fellas. Welcome to Las Vegas, and we hope your flight was comfortable.”</p>
<p>Bucky thanked them, but he just wanted to go. He carried his and Steve’s backpacks in one hand and led Steve out of the plane and down the airstair with the other. He was extra-cautious that Steve didn’t slip or overbalance or get dizzy. The dry desert air was already leeching all moisture from their bodies. He’d need to make sure Steve stayed hydrated. He wasn’t used to this climate at all. The last thing he wanted was for Steve to experience a medical issue now, so close to HQ, after having safely traveled across the continent.</p>
<p>“You good, Steve?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m great,” he replied with a small yawn.</p>
<p>Bucky shouldered his backpack and lifted Steve’s with his left hand. Because of unexpected delays at the Hannibal airport (their plane hadn’t arrived, then it had to be refueled and restocked, then that weather system threatened until they were finally allowed to depart after two AM), it was only a little past dawn when they landed in Las Vegas. The airstrip reserved for executive or chartered flights contained a single waiting area in a relatively small-but-fancy terminal. Bucky caught up with Steve in time to hold the door for him and then push his own way through into air-conditioned bliss.</p>
<p>“Las Vegas, huh?” Steve said, looking around. There were a few airport employees around. Two stood behind a kind of ticketing booth chatting and sipping coffee. A janitor pushed a bright yellow cart into the Alpha restroom. One Alpha sat at a slot machine mindlessly staring at the spinning wheels. A double row of comfortable chairs sat empty. The entire space was maybe fifty feet from end to end. A sign above the opposite doors read <strong>WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS – <em>this way to Ground Transportation</em></strong>.</p>
<p>Bucky urged Steve across the industrial carpeted floor to a waiting airport bus. The driver, a leathery Beta of indeterminate age greeted them by saying, “Good morning. Any luggage?”</p>
<p>“Just these,” Bucky said. He guided Steve onto the bus and followed after, placing their backpacks onto the otherwise empty luggage racks.</p>
<p>The Beta climbed on board. “Welcome to Las Vegas,” she said. “First visit?” At Bucky’s nod, she smiled. “Great! No one else expected in for a while, so if you’re okay with it, I’ll just get us going. Now, I can only take you as far as the main airport. Sorry, but the taxi stand and the rental cars are on the other end. You’ll have to walk. We used to be able to drive all the way around, but with the war, you know, there’s been nothing but increased security. They put up all kinds of fences around here.” She closed the doors and put the vehicle into gear. “At least you don’t have a lot to carry,” she went on, using the internal PA system to communicate with them. “Did you hear about that terrorist attack in Seattle last week? Some militia group infiltrated Homeland Security and set a bomb outside one of the Starbucks in the domestic flight section. Three people were killed. Bunch of airport employees injured. It’s wrong to target people just trying to do their jobs. Am I right?”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. Speaking out loud felt superfluous. He kind of thought the Beta didn’t need his input anyway to keep the one-sided conversation going.</p>
<p>He was right.</p>
<p>“Now, I’ve lived in Nevada my whole life. My whole family’s from here, too, and we don’t much care for the government telling us what to do with every single thing. That’s kind of how we all ended up here in the first place, I guess. Far away from the capitol, far away from governmental interference. Something goes wrong out here, you have to rely on yourself to fix it. Can’t wait for some government stooge to get off his ass to make a decision that’s going to be the wrong one because what do they know about how life is lived out here in the desert? Nothing, that’s what. Now, me? I’d like to vote Libertarian in everything, but we just don’t have a lot of Libertarians running for office. Anyway, here we go.”</p>
<p>The bus pulled up next to the main airport building. Bucky saw automatic doors flashing with the morning sunlight. Steve stood and Bucky preceded him out of the bus, their backpacks in his left hand. Steve thanked their driver and waited on the sidewalk while Bucky leaned in and told her, “If you don’t believe in government, it makes sense you wouldn’t run for office. Unfortunately, that’s the only way to make any real changes. If the Libertarians could resolve that paradox, then they’d have something. Have a wonderful day and thank you for the ride!” He smiled and waved at the Beta’s thoughtful expression.</p>
<p>The brief walk to the building through the dry desert air was enough to convince Bucky that the humidity of DC in the summer was maybe not as terrible as he’d thought. Inside, the air conditioning once again came as a welcome relief. He placed a hand on Steve’s back. “You ready to start walking?”</p>
<p>Steve hesitated. “Let’s get you that coffee. And maybe something to eat that didn’t come out of a bag? Something light. A breakfast sandwich?” He pointed at the nearby Starbucks, a dozen or so air travelers already in line. “Or a breakfast pizza? Which sounds horrible, but also… oddly tempting.” He pointed to the Pizza 24/7 franchise opposite the coffee shop. It, too, had a few people in line ready to order their signature sausage, egg and cheese breakfast pizzas.</p>
<p>“They’re not… terrible,” Bucky said. “I think they have small pizzas. I’ll get you one and if you hate it, you won’t feel so bad about tossing it out. I’ll get you some juice from the Starbucks, and I definitely need coffee. You stay here,” Bucky said, gesturing toward a bench. “Here’s your bag. Bacon or sausage?”</p>
<p>“Bacon, please.” Steve smiled happily. “Thanks!” He sat down at a small table facing the concessions. Bucky dropped a kiss on Steve’s forehead, shouldered the heavier backpack, and joined the Pizza 24/7 line.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Airports were so fascinating, Steve thought, now having been in two very different ones. The small municipal airport in Hannibal had one runway, one main building, one airplane taking off or landing at a time and the entire place practically shut down by 10 PM. By huge contrast, the Las Vegas airport (McCarren International), had multiple runways, multiple buildings, planes taking off, landing, and circling all at the same time, and people hurrying everywhere, even at 6 AM. He watched as businesspeople, couples, small families, groups of friends rushed past on their way to adventure or home, or lingered to greet recent arrivals or just wait for their own planes to board. He smiled to see an excited Omega in a white t-shirt that read ‘Bride,’ surrounded by other Omegas and Betas, each one dressed in a matching t-shirt that read ‘Bride Squad.’ The bride wore a short white veil pinned to his auburn hair. They had apparently just gotten off a plane and were loudly hunting for the baggage claim area with shrieks and giggles while posing for selfies.</p>
<p>Steve smiled and wondered if he would get a chance to have a real wedding. The Pierces had bonded with him via proxy. He’d never even seen photos, but assumed neither Pierce had attended in person, either. He’d sometimes dreamed of a real wedding to an Alpha, or bonding with an already-married Alpha-Beta pair. He’d always assumed, either way, that it would be a traditional ceremony, maybe even in a church, and that he’d be blissfully happy. And finally feel complete.</p>
<p>His gaze sharpened and he realized he was staring at Bucky, who had ordered the breakfast pizza and was now in line at the Starbucks. Bucky seemed to realize he was being watched. He looked up suddenly, then glanced over at Steve. Their eyes met and Steve felt himself blush at being caught out. Then Bucky grinned and sort of blushed himself. Feeling bold, Steve winked at him. Immediately feeling shy, he ducked his head, then peeked out of the corner of his eye.</p>
<p>Bucky was still grinning back. The line moved forward a little. Bucky looked again at Steve and then stuck his hand in his pocket and looked dramatically off into the distance. It took Steve all of five seconds to realize he was imitating the dramatic pose of a nearby poster-size advertisement for one of the casino hotels. Steve laughed. Bucky proceeded to strike other dramatic poses for him as the line inched forward, until he was blocked by a thick support column.</p>
<p>Steve leaned back in his chair, the entertainment necessarily over. He felt warm in his heart. Bucky was funny, smart, brave, strong – everything Steve had dreamed of in an Alpha and more. And really, rather good-looking. He had a defined jaw, a good nose, generous lips, beautiful eyes and lush, thick hair that felt really nice in one’s hands. That settled it, Steve thought. As soon as Bucky got back, he was going to run his hand through Bucky’s hair. They were going to stay in touch after they got to HQ at least, weren’t they? Even though HQ was the end of the line? This chemistry between them wasn’t just something Steve had imagined as a way to escape real life. Was it? Maybe Bucky was looking forward to dumping Steve off in someone else’s care. Maybe Steve needed to reconfirm –</p>
<p>He leaped to his feet as an icy splash cascaded across his neck and shoulder, drenching him in – he held up his hands – soda?</p>
<p>“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry! I’m such a klutz. Let me help you, here.” A Beta suddenly appeared in front of him, distressed expression on her face, a few napkins in one hand, an empty plastic cup in the other. “Are you all right?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Steve said. “Are you?”</p>
<p>She looked at him a moment, then nodded, “Of course, I am. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. Just in such a rush, you know? Trying to catch up to my friends. Didn’t see the chair. Oh, dear,” she said, clucking her tongue. “That might stain.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be –“</p>
<p>“There’s a bathroom right there,” she said, gesturing toward the Family/Omega restroom. “I’ll help you. You don’t want the stain to set in.”</p>
<p>That seemed sensible. “Oh. Thanks.” He picked up his backpack and held it out so it wouldn’t get soda on it. Nothing he was wearing was his own; it was all borrowed. He hated to think he might have ruined Becca’s state fair t-shirt. The bathroom entrance was right in front of him. It had no physical door, just a barrier wall blocking the view of the inside. As the apologetic Beta ushered him around the corner, he glanced back and saw Bucky just walking up to the Starbucks register to order. Well, this shouldn’t take long.</p>
<p>The Beta urged him toward the sinks. “Maybe you should rinse that out and then you can dry it with the hand dryers.”</p>
<p>That seemed smart, too. He glanced around and saw they were alone, so he carefully pulled off the shirt to rinse out the soda into the sink. The Beta hovered near the exit. She had another one of those bridesmaid shirts on. This one read ‘She’s in Love with the Boy.’ It was an oversized shirt and loose around her hips. “You can go. I’ll be fine,” he said. “I don’t want you to miss your friends.”</p>
<p>“Hm? Oh, I’m good,” the Beta said, doing something on her phone.</p>
<p>Steve nodded, then shut off the water and squeezed out as much as he could from the shirt. As he held it up, hoping to see evidence that the soda had been rinsed out, he asked her, “When’s the wedding?”</p>
<p>“What wedding?”</p>
<p>He gestured toward her. “I’m sorry. I thought that was one of those cute bachelorette party t-shirts.”</p>
<p>She looked down at herself. “Oh! Right. Yes. Next week,” she said.</p>
<p>He nodded. Not exactly satisfied with his rinse job, but figuring it was mostly better, he moved over to the hand dryer and set it off. He stretched the fabric tight so that the dryer would work more efficiently. He tried to estimate Bucky’s progress. He’d just started ordering when Steve entered the bathroom. He had definitely had time to be finished with that, he’d probably paid, and he might just be waiting for the drinks. He might have turned to check on Steve. He might be worried that Steve isn’t sitting there.</p>
<p>“Can you do me a favor?” he asked the Beta.</p>
<p>“Uh, sure, what’s up?” She looked up from her phone.</p>
<p>“My friend is out there getting Starbucks,” he said. “Could you run out there and let him know I’ll just be a minute?” He smiled at her.</p>
<p>The Beta slipped her phone into her pocket. “You can tell him yourself,” she said, her manner decidedly cooler.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>The Beta pulled a gun from somewhere underneath her shirt and pointed it at him. “Get dressed. It’s time to move.”</p>
<p>It felt like his blood had turned to ice. Steve stared at her, uncomprehending.</p>
<p>“Now!” she shouted.</p>
<p>Steve shook out the shirt, found the hem with shaking hands, and pulled it over his head. The shirt was still mostly damp, and it clung uncomfortably to his skin. “Who are you? What are you doing?”</p>
<p>The Beta reached out and yanked the shirt down over Steve’s back. She grabbed his upper arm and propelled him forward. “Move it.”</p>
<p>“You can’t –“ Steve began, thinking of all the people in the airport, the very public airport. Airports had security. They had cameras and people and things like that. He stumbled into the airport terminal, blinking with surprise at the scene before him. What had been just five minutes ago normal and bustling and cheerful was now tense, disturbing, and more than a little bit surreal.</p>
<p>Gone were the early morning travelers lining up for caffeine or pizza. The dozen or so remaining had weapons drawn and were fanned out around the terminal, guarding the employee-only doors and the other exits, preventing escape. The bachelorette party that had been giggling and laughing? They had weapons, too, and had formed a cordon against the airport interior and constructed a barricade of benches, tables, chairs and luggage. What was left were a half dozen armed Alphas and Betas, at least three of them in loud shirts and socks-with-sandals, two more of which had weapons pointed at Bucky’s head.</p>
<p>Bucky. Who was kneeling on the floor, his hands behind his head, murder in his eyes, a ruined breakfast pizza on the nearby tile and a latte lake forming a few feet away. He looked up at Steve’s entrance and visibly relaxed. “He better be unhurt!” he growled. “I fucking swear to God, he’d better not have a single bruise or the tiniest scratch or I will fuck you up so bad.”</p>
<p>“You hush up there, Col. Barnes,” the Beta said, giving Steve another push. “You ain’t going t’be doing shit.”</p>
<p>“That’s enough, both of you,” a voice said calmly. An Alpha stood up from his chair, folded newspaper in hand. Steve realized belatedly that he’d been sitting there the entire time. Since he and Bucky had gotten off the transport bus, that man had just been sitting, placid, reading his newspaper, blending in. Now he stood up and strode toward Steve, his trench coat flaring a bit with the movement. He had a kindly, inoffensive, vaguely ethnic face. If pressed, Steve couldn’t have said if he were Hispanic or Asian or European. He wasn’t sure he could describe him at all. The Alpha had small frameless glasses, no hair, evenly brown skin and wore monochromatic clothes. He even spoke with a blandness that, had Steve thought about it at all, likely meant he’d had lessons to remove a defining accent. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Stevie,” the Alpha said. “My name is Sitwell. Jasper Sitwell. And I’ve come to take you home.” He smiled. “No fuss now, okay? And then no one gets hurt.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Steve said, taking an involuntary step back. He bumped into the Beta behind him and felt her press her weapon into his side.</p>
<p>“Oh, I think you are,” Sitwell said. “I don’t think you realize the trouble you’re in. We’ve been looking for you. The whole country’s been looking for you, in fact. Now, I know it may seem romantic to run off with a suitor. We could probably even sell that to the media. Young, innocent Omega gets her head turned by the brave military officer, believes his lies and runs off only to discover he’s a traitor and that, gosh, but home really is the best place to be, isn’t it.” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “Ratings will be through the roof. They might make a movie about it.” He sniffed ostentatiously. “Do I smell Oscar?”  </p>
<p>“I’m not going back,” Steve vowed. “You can’t make me. You’ll be stopped.”</p>
<p>Sitwell grinned. “No, I won’t.” He paused. “Do you hear those sirens?”</p>
<p>Steve glanced out the doors into the morning sunlight. He did hear sirens. They were getting closer.</p>
<p>“Those sirens aren’t for you. Well, I guess they’re for you, but not in the way you probably think. See,” Sitwell said, his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, “you’re not exactly a private citizen. You’re a member of the First Family of the Federated States of America, which is a foreign government. As such, retrieving you is a matter of national security. It’s even something that can be brokered between governments, maybe as part of a prisoner exchange.”</p>
<p>“That’s ridiculous. You should know something. Pierce is dead.” He glanced around, hoping to see some surprise or shock from his comment.</p>
<p>Sitwell followed his glance around the room, then grinned. “Did you think to tell us something we didn’t know? The announcement was made on the morning news shows. President Pierce died in his sleep. His wife was slowly poisoning him so she could run away with Vice President Nickels. They were having an affair, you know. Nickels resisted arrest and was shot by federal officers in his home. She’s being held in a maximum-security prison. It’s not certain she’ll make it to trial. People get so angry at assassins, don’t you know?”</p>
<p>That didn’t make sense. There was no affair. Natasha got away. She had to have gotten away. And what about Angie? “That’s a lie,” he said. He hated hearing how his voice was shaking. “You’re just telling lies.” Shit, he tried to think, what did this mean? Who was in charge of the FSA now?</p>
<p>Sitwell shrugged. “So what? It’s a good story, and a good story will always be more believable than the truth. One fact remains. You’re a member of the Pierce family and they want you back. They want,” he gestured at Steve’s abdomen, “that back.”</p>
<p>Steve placed a hand on his abdomen. His shirt was wet and cold now and he felt goosebumps on his flesh. “They can’t have it,” he said.</p>
<p>“You don’t really have a say.”</p>
<p>Steve thought fast. “The US won’t let you take me back against my will. I-I-I call, uh, sanctuary!” That was a thing, wasn’t it? It seemed vaguely familiar.</p>
<p>Sitwell stared at him a moment. “I’m sorry, what? Do you think this is a church? Or that I’d care even if it was?” He spread his hands. “Sanctuary’s not a thing anymore.”</p>
<p>“Then, uh…” He thought faster, his mind racing. What did people say when they wanted the protection of the country they were in? “Asylum!” That was it. He placed both hands on his abdomen. “I claim asylum! For me and my baby.”</p>
<p>Sitwell smiled as he tilted his head, holding a hand up to his ear. “Do I hear… is that… the sound of failure?” He laughed. “Requesting asylum only works if there’s anyone around to hear it who’s going to do anything about it. And there isn’t. These are all my people, Stevie. They’re being well paid to listen to me. So you need to listen to me.” He stopped being genial. “Cut the crap and come with me. I’ve got a whole Starbucks crew under guard and I’d really like to get a pumpkin-spiced latte for the road.”</p>
<p>Panic must have shown on his face because Bucky suddenly called out, “Don’t worry, Steve! I’m going to get you and the baby out of this. They’re not taking you anywhere.”</p>
<p>Sitwell rolled his eyes and called out, “Someone shut him up!” He took a step, blocking Steve’s view so he could only hear a thump of impact. “You there,” he said to the Beta behind Steve, “get to it. You got cuffs. Use them.”</p>
<p>Steve felt the Beta’s exasperated huff on his neck. “I don’t have any,” she said. “I told Marla I needed some, but she gave the last set to Kimmy Sue over there.”</p>
<p>“Will someone please just cough up some handcuffs? Or a zip tie?” Sitwell shouted. “For the love of God, people!”</p>
<p>“Here you go, sir.” An Alpha left his post at the doors and hurried over to hand Sitwell a set of silver handcuffs.</p>
<p>Sitwell just looked at them like they were slime. “Not me. Her!”</p>
<p>“Right.” The Alpha hurried over to Steve. He tried to hand the cuffs to the Beta, but she gestured to show she was carrying a gun. He looked at Steve. “So, uh, hold out your arms?”</p>
<p>Time seemed to slow to a crawl as thoughts raced pell-mell through Steve’s head. He was always being told what to do. Since he presented as an Omega, everyone was telling him what to do. Go to this school, not that one. Study this subject, not those. Don’t even think about earning your own money. Don’t dare try to leave the country. Wear the uniform. Don’t speak out of turn. Don’t speak at all. Say only this. Play the game. Bend over. Go into heat. Fuck this stranger, then that one. Miscarry? Get punished. Over and over and over all anyone was ever doing was telling Steve what to do.</p>
<p>He was tired of it.</p>
<p>He wanted to make his own choices. Even escaping DC with Bucky, he had to follow Bucky’s rules. Go to this place, sleep in this room, wear these clothes that still aren’t yours.</p>
<p>Now he was in the ‘land of the free’ and it was still happening. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.</p>
<p>It. Was. Not. Right.</p>
<p>The Alpha with the silver handcuffs fumbled them. They fell onto the floor in a clinking cascade. The Beta cursed under her breath.</p>
<p>Steve took a half-step to the side to give the Alpha room to reach the handcuffs, then wondered why he was still just standing there. Sitwell had confirmed he knew Steve was pregnant. The Pierces wanted the baby. No one was going to harm him because that would harm the baby. Being pregnant meant being protected. Being pregnant was his shield. Therefore…</p>
<p>…therefore…</p>
<p>For the first time in a year, he felt his brain wholly engage. A new series of thoughts raced through his head. Steve grew calmer as the situation came into sharper focus. Behind him was a restroom – a dead end. In front of him was Bucky and multiple paths to freedom. Bucky was trained. Military. He could handle himself in a fight. He would protect Steve, and Steve’s baby would act as their shield.</p>
<p>And no one was going to tell him what to do again.</p>
<p>He started walking toward Bucky.</p>
<p>As he passed Sitwell, the Alpha reached out for him, but Steve was slender and flexible and he eeled around Sitwell’s outstretched hand. He reached the benches where he’d been waiting before, then the place where the small round tables and little chairs had been. Bucky’s eyes were on him, a little puzzled, a little expectant, a lot wary. Steve smiled like it was any other day.</p>
<p>“Oh, come on,” Sitwell snarled. “Really?”</p>
<p>Steve heard Sitwell’s footsteps come up behind him. At the last moment, Steve turned, his hand in a fist and aimed at Sitwell’s chin. He missed. He slugged Sitwell in the throat instead. The shocked Alpha went to his knees, his hands around his neck, and Steve smirked. He hadn’t been in a fistfight in two years, but clearly, he hadn’t lost his edge completely.</p>
<p>The Beta and Alpha who’d been trying to cuff him were now grappling over her gun for some reason. Steve turned toward Bucky as someone else shouted, “Don’t fire, idiot! The baby!” The bachelorette party were poised with their weapons pointing right at him, though some of them looked conflicted. Meanwhile, Bucky had taken the opportunity to leap to his feet and Steve saw him – saw him be ruthless, brutal, efficient, <em>amazing</em> – and for a seeming eternity, that was all Steve could see.</p>
<p>Bucky had already taken out one of his guards, grabbed a gun from somewhere, shot four enemies (including the Alphas wearing socks-with-sandals) at least twice each in the chest all while grappling one-handed with his other guard. He then used the butt of the gun to take him out, too.</p>
<p>“Get down! Stay down!” Bucky ordered Steve and Steve fell into a crouch by the thick support column next to the Pizza 24/7. Bucky dropped down to pick up another two firearms off the floor and proceeded to shoot at every other enemy agent, one after the other, slowly rising to his full height, calm as could be, expression furious and focused – <em>aim and fire-fire, aim and fire-fire</em> – even as bullets pinged off the floor and fixtures around him. Steve’s jaw dropped and he resolved to commit the experience to memory so he could review it later in private.</p>
<p>Sitwell was still gagging, but he threw himself across the slick floor, reaching out to grab Steve’s ankle. In response, Steve kicked at Sitwell’s head, but missed. The cute slip-on shoe he’d taken from the First Lady’s closet, though, flew off into the distance. Well, Steve wasn’t going to just let Sitwell do what he wanted. He spied a round metal pizza tray on the floor nearby. He reached over and grabbed it, then swung it upright at Sitwell’s head, connecting with a satisfying <em>thwack!</em> A surge of anger, panic, frustration, desperation had him slamming the pizza pan twice more against Sitwell’s skull until the Alpha went limp on the floor and let go of his ankle. The shape of the tray reminded him of a frisbee, and when he saw a bachelorette creeping up behind Bucky with a gun in her hand, he flung it at her just like he’d do on a playground. It smacked her hard across the face, leaving an instant red mark. Bucky turned at the sound and fired at her, wounding her in the shoulder. She screamed.</p>
<p>Everything stopped moving. Gunsmoke plumed in the air, acrid and ashy. Bits of ceiling tiles fell onto the floor. Someone cried out. Several more someones started shouting, “Las Vegas Police! Nobody move!”</p>
<p>Bucky fell to his knees at Steve’s side, grabbing him and pulling him into a solid embrace. “Holy fuck, Steve, are you okay? Are you? I swear, I thought they hurt you. Did they hurt you? I will kill every last one of them if they hurt you.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, Buck, I swear.” Steve pulled back enough to examine Bucky’s face. He brushed his fingers through his hair and smiled. “Not a scratch. Promise.”</p>
<p>Bucky looked into Steve’s eyes for a long moment. Things were happening around them, but they couldn’t pay attention. Bucky held Steve’s face in his hands, then kissed him and kissed him. Steve let Bucky plunder his mouth, take what he needed from him. He’d give anything to Bucky, everything to Bucky, with no regrets. He returned Bucky’s attention with equal fervor, pressing his mouth against Bucky’s mouth, slipping his tongue against Bucky’s tongue, running his hands across Bucky’s broad shoulders. Then Steve was on his knees being pulled up tight against Bucky’s body and he could feel his cock, hard and hot and he groaned.</p>
<p>This was his Alpha. This was the best, the strongest, the greatest Alpha there could ever be. This Alpha had <em>fought for him!</em> He’d fought for him, protected him, and he <em>won. </em>Steve felt himself get slick. His breath got short. He wanted to present, to part his thighs and let the Alpha take everything. He pulled his mouth away to get more air. The Alpha bit along his neck.</p>
<p>“Oh, Stevie,” the Alpha moaned. “I was so worried.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine, I swear,” Steve said, running his hands up the Alpha’s shoulders to his beautiful, thick hair.</p>
<p>The Alpha slid his hand along Steve’s abdomen. “The baby? Is the baby-?”</p>
<p>“Uh…”</p>
<p>“Excuse me, are you Col. James Barnes?”</p>
<p>It was a dash of cold water. They froze, then pulled away from each other.</p>
<p>“What is it?” Bucky looked up, angry, then his expression cleared. “Oh, right. Of course. Sorry.” Steve looked up and saw a Beta officer standing three or four feet away. He sat down on his heels but kept a hand on Bucky’s arm, needing to maintain a connection.</p>
<p>“It happens. More often than you’d think,” she explained in an unimpressed way. “I’m Detective Bennet, currently in charge of the scene. We’d like to ask you a few questions. Maybe find out what’s going on here and if we should be arresting you or not.” She grinned cheerfully. Steve had a sneaking suspicion she used her facial expressions as an interrogation tactic. It was a little unnerving to see her grinning in the midst of the bloody chaos, the other officers shouting at and restraining any of the injured who were still moving, emergency medical personnel rushing through the scene with med kits and stretchers.</p>
<p>“Right.” Bucky blinked at her. “Hang on a sec? I’ve got something that might help clear this up.” He sat down on the floor and pulled off his boot. It was the same boot he’d been wearing since they left DC, Steve noticed. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the way Bucky peeled off a strip of leather from the bottom of the boot. No, not peeled, he kind of pushed something and a thin leather square popped out, revealing a shallow compartment and a small plastic card. Bucky held up the plastic card to Bennet. “Scan that. Should help.”</p>
<p>Bennet did as he requested, then looked at her handheld computer with curiosity. “No shit?” she asked.</p>
<p>“No shit,” Bucky confirmed.</p>
<p>“Okay, so…” She glanced around the controlled chaos. Dozens of officers were triaging the wounded, securing the scene, taking photographs and cataloging evidence. “You want to debrief at the station? We got good coffee. Promise. Las Vegas has the best-funded police in what’s left of the country. Per capita, of course.”</p>
<p>“I’d really rather complete my mission,” Bucky said. “That’s getting this guy to a safe house. It’s already set up. We were on our way to meet our driver. And that guy? Sitwell? He’s the organizer of this little party. He’s trying to weasel out of it and your Alpha over there is about to let him.”</p>
<p>They looked a few feet away to see a uniformed officer nodding at Sitwell, then patting him on the shoulder while the trenchcoated agent looked harmless and soft.</p>
<p>“That guy?” Detective Bennet said. “Huh. Okay. Hey! Malone!”</p>
<p>The young officer straightened up. “Yes, Detective Bennet, ma’am?”</p>
<p>“Get him under arrest and cuff him. Take him to the station. If he’s not in an interrogation room waiting for me by the time I get back there, I will know the reason why. Got it?” And then Bennet smiled sunnily at him like she was talking to a Sunday School class.</p>
<p>Officer Malone paled. “Yes, ma’am!” Within minutes, Malone had cuffed a dumbfounded Sitwell and had ushered him outside and into a police car, successfully ignoring Sitwell’s protests the entire way.</p>
<p>Bennet smiled at Bucky and Steve, more friendly this time. “And do you want to confirm this Omega’s identity?”</p>
<p>Bucky looked at Steve, letting him respond. “I’m Steve Rogers…er, Pierce, I guess,” Steve said. “I’d like to request asylum?”</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>A half hour later, Steve and Bucky were being driven away from the Las Vegas airport by Tony Stark’s personal driver, Happy Hogan. Happy, who had arrived in the terminal just as Sitwell was being driven away, had apologized at least a dozen times for not knowing anything was going wrong. He’d been waiting for them inside the airport at the taxi stand exit. Not until he heard sirens did he think anything of the slight delay in Steve and Bucky’s arrival.</p>
<p>As it turned out, the pilot, Tommy, had ratted them out hours earlier before leaving the Hannibal airport. He’d been instructed to delay take-off as long as possible, then remove all the extra coffee and all caffeinated drinks before departure, expectation being that Bucky would stop for coffee the first chance he had. Once the plane landed in Las Vegas, Tommy had made sure to get paid before leaving with Mindy. The two of them were arrested before noon at their apartment.</p>
<p>There were twenty-eight known members of various militia involved in the attempted kidnapping. Sitwell, it turned out, had ostensibly been a middle manager at SHIELD but was actually a mole who’d taken the opportunity to make his mark with the FSA by returning Steve to the Pierce family. Bucky had personally wounded twenty-six of the militia members. Steve had been solely responsible for taking out Sitwell, a fact which turned on Bucky more than he thought possible.</p>
<p>There was one injury from friendly fire. The Alpha who had offered up the handcuffs to be used on Steve turned out to be an undercover officer, embedded within one of the militia groups in an effort to combat domestic terrorism. He’d been embedded with the militia group not quite six weeks when he’d been brought in by them to help fill out numbers on the  airport gig. He’d improvised the business with the cuffs, intending to fumble and delay until actual help arrived. He was being honored for his bravery, quick thinking, and assistance in foiling a kidnapping/hostage scenario and international incident.</p>
<p>The sirens were indeed police and fire rescue responding to an alarm pulled by an under-appreciated Starbucks barista. The entire crew, as well as the staff of the Pizza 24/7, had been locked in their respective storage closets while militia took over the stores’ operations for the morning. This had resulted in enough delays with their service that someone was able to separate Bucky and Steve without Bucky noticing. Plan B had been to pull weapons in the terminal and hope for the best.</p>
<p>That specific terminal wasn’t usually busy at that hour of the morning, but neither Bucky nor Steve had any reason to realize that.</p>
<p>The chatty bus driver was cleared of all involvement.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>“I should tell you something,” Steve said, nibbling on a breakfast burrito as Happy drove their limo through the Las Vegas strip. As an apology, Happy had gotten them food and then put up the divider so they could ride in peace. “Something I should maybe have told you before, but I guess I’ve been a coward. I’m maybe not such a good person. But you’ve been so wonderful, so good to me.” He sighed. “Your mom told me to tell you. She told me I could trust you, but…” He shook his head. “I couldn’t do it. I was going to, but I just couldn’t.” He turned his head and stared out the window at the roller coaster track in front of the New York New York Hotel and Casino on their left.</p>
<p>“…okay. Tell me what?” He kept watching Steve. What could he possibly want to say? He hated Bucky? Bucky disgusted him? Freaked him out? Having Bucky around just reminded him of all the sex he’d been forced to have? Maybe Bucky scared him with the way he just shot twenty-six people without hesitating, practically without blinking. Well, Bucky was a grown-up and he could handle this. He could understand it. He wouldn’t like it, but he’d understand it because -</p>
<p>“I’m not pregnant anymore.”</p>
<p>“Anymore than what?” The words popped out of his mouth before he could even process what Steve had said. “I mean, what? Since when? I mean…” He floundered and felt stupid for being caught off-guard about it. Miscarriages happened. Tony’s scan. The cryptic ‘perfectly healthy for an Omega in his condition.’ Everything else, all of his own insecurity, evaporated. “Oh, shit, was it the smoke? The firefight? Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Steve said, glancing at Bucky with a small smile. “I’m sure I’m fine. I don’t feel any different than I did last time. Not really. And… it mostly happened the other night. At the motel room. While you were out getting food.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, took another bit of his sandwich. “Maybe it was the smoke. I don’t know.”</p>
<p>Bucky stared at him for a long moment, then forced his brain to start working again. He leaned over closer to Steve. “You want a doctor? I can get you a doctor. Right now. Happy can-”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head, his eyes huge and wet, shimmering in the morning light. “Do you want me to go away? Because I’m… because I lied to you. If you want me to, I understand. Your Mom told me you don’t like liars. I get that. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t expect you to give up the rest of your life for a liar.”</p>
<p>“Fuck, Steve, no,” Bucky said, rubbing his forehead to fight off a threatening headache. <em>Thanks, Mom,</em> he thought. Aloud, he said, “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I’ll tell you later. It’s not important. You’re not a liar, Steve. I know that. And you’re not a coward. Christ, would a coward just calmly walk away from someone holding a gun on him like you did? I nearly had a heart attack. What were you thinking?”</p>
<p>Guileless blue eyes fixed on him. “Thinking? That I was tired of being told what to do, of just waiting while other people made choices for me, told me to do things. Walk away… now, that was something I could do. A choice I could make for myself. Besides, as far as everyone else there knew, I was pregnant. I was protected. They weren’t going to risk shooting me and hitting the baby. I was perfectly safe.”</p>
<p>Incredulous, Bucky felt his jaw drop. “You were not safe! Bullets were flying all over. You were just lucky. Lucky is not the same as smart, careful or safe!” He bundled up the wrapper from his own breakfast sandwich and tossed it forcefully into the take-out bag.</p>
<p>Steve regarded him calmly, then said, “It was the best option I had. They expected me to stay put while they took me away, to be a ‘good, obedient Omega.’ I needed to do something, to prove to them and myself that I’m more than that. I can be more than that. And whatever I did, well, it needed to be something they didn’t expect. If I hadn’t taken the risk, I’d be in Sitwell’s custody right now and you’d be…” His expression crumbled a little.</p>
<p>He stretched his arm over and laid it on Steve’s slender shoulder. “Don’t think about it. Don’t play that game. ‘What if’ isn’t helpful to anybody. I know that as well as anyone.” He took a deep breath. “We’re both safe. We did what we did and it worked out for us. That’s a huge win and we can be proud of that. ‘Any landing you walk away from,’ you know?”</p>
<p>Steve ate some more of his breakfast burrito, then nodded. “How long until we get there, did you say?”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s a couple hours. We have to get through Vegas first.” He glanced out his window and saw they were passing Paris Las Vegas now. He’d heard that Gordon Ramsay’s steakhouse was worth a trip. Maybe he could take Steve out for a fancy dinner, maybe take in one of those ridiculous Cirque du Soleil shows people raved about. Do something nice for him and give him a pleasant memory. Or, he thought, maybe Penn &amp; Teller would be a better option, and resolved to check on tickets for that.</p>
<p>Assuming Steve wanted to date him, of course. They could eat dinner as friends instead. Bucky would be happy with that. Wasn’t he just thinking about ‘Uncle Bucky’ status a few hours ago, back when he thought Steve was still pregnant?</p>
<p>Except Steve wasn’t pregnant anymore. Steve was free of all that. Steve was his own person again. Steve could make his own decisions again. That was… that was kind of scary. What if Steve didn’t choose Bucky? But what if he did? What if he had all the autonomy the world could offer, and he still chose Bucky? Wouldn’t that be… everything?</p>
<p>“So we have time for that story about the liar?” Steve asked hopefully.</p>
<p>“Oh. Yeah.” Reality threatened to crash even harder. “Maybe let’s save that story, hm? It’s not exactly… It kind of requires alcohol.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded wisely. “Got it.”</p>
<p>He was failing this. He knew it. He used to be so good at talking to people he was attracted to. Had five years undercover messed him up that badly? How could that be? He’d had serious relationships. Well, maybe not ‘serious,’ but definitely ‘long-term.’ Six months was long-term, right?</p>
<p>Fuck. He was fucking this up. “Look, Steve, I’m not sure what Mom told you, but I’m not looking for a reason to stop being your friend.” Steve was frowning now. Yup. Fucked up. Way to go, James Buchanan.</p>
<p>“I’m not either,” Steve said. “Besides Angie, you’re the only friend I have.” His frown deepened. “Although, based on what the First – that is, what Natasha was saying, maybe she didn’t think of me the same way.” He shook his head and his expression cleared. “Assuming she’s all right, I look forward to a nice long chat to clear the air.”</p>
<p>“She owes you,” Bucky said. “The safe house was raided, remember? I didn’t have a doctor in my exit strategy.”</p>
<p>“I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Once we get to HQ, we’ll find out what happened to Angie and Natasha. I’m sure they made it. Natasha seemed… highly competent.” Ruthless, tough, single-minded, but also competent. She certainly wasn’t the pampered Russian ballerina-turned-First Lady she’d pretended to be. He resolved to set aside some time later to figure her out. She wasn’t important now.</p>
<p>Steve grumbled, “She sure was something.”</p>
<p>“You know, they’ll want to set you up with a therapist, like I said, especially after what just happened at the airport,” Bucky said. “I can’t recommend finding a good one highly enough.” Off Steve’s betrayed look, he swiftly added, “I’m definitely making an appointment as soon as I can. The past few years have been shit. The only thing getting me through most of it was anonymous sex and liquor. Some days… a lot of days – a lot more days than I can probably admit right now, I thought maybe Pierce was right and he did deserve to remain president.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wasn’t until they gave me this mission that things settled down for me. I guess I don’t like being idle.” He sat for a moment while Steve just observed him, then added softly, “Kind of felt like I had just imagined everything, that I’d made it all up. I was being played. There was no resistance. Any day, someone was going to bust out of my closet with a camera and tell me I had been on some crazy reality show.” He smirked at Steve. “That was one of my more positive nightmares.”</p>
<p>Steve nodded. “I get that. For me, it felt like the whole world was in favor of what was going on. That no one cared that the US had just been taken over and subverted. I can’t say as I ever thought it was going to turn out to be a reality show, but I definitely didn’t think there was any real resistance, either.” He smiled sadly at him. “And I definitely felt alone. Like I was the only one who cared what happened to me.” He laughed without humor. “Even when I got bonded, I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere, like I mattered.” He peeked at Bucky, a shy, adorable move that made Bucky smile. “Not until you, that is.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you definitely need therapy,” Bucky said with a laugh.</p>
<p>Steve finished off his breakfast and put the wrapper into the take-out bag. He took a long sip off his fruit juice smoothie and sighed. “This is nice, though. Right now. This is really nice.”</p>
<p>They rode in comfort as they left the Strip, and downtown Vegas, turning north and west on a long stretch of highway. The desert spread out on either side of them: brown, dirt, and rocks. Distant mountains. Some sky.</p>
<p>“You know, Steve, I don’t want us to stop being friends. I’m with you to the end of the line and that’s still a long way off. I mean it. I got to ask, though, why you didn’t tell me about the miscarriage when it happened? I could’ve been more… accommodating. We could have gone slower. I don’t know.”</p>
<p>Steve shook his head. “No, it was fine. I would have made up some reason to stop more often if I really needed to. The engine vibration was good, actually. Kind of like a massage.”</p>
<p>“Okay. You want to talk about it, you can. I just want you to know, nothing has changed for me in how I feel about you. I don’t think anything you say could –“</p>
<p>“I think it was Rumlow’s baby.”</p>
<p>Bucky grimaced. “I… I figured. He got so weird around you. Protective. I mean, I’m not sorry he was looking after you, I just...”</p>
<p>“I wanted it to be yours.”</p>
<p>That required a longer pause. He ran through half a dozen responses before settling on the truth. “So did I. But it wasn’t. And that’s okay.” He let his head fall back against the seat.</p>
<p>“I think the first one could have been Pierce’s, but… it was probably yours.”</p>
<p>Shit, Bucky thought. “Yeah. Maybe. Still doesn’t matter.” He did feel the bonding pull toward Steve, but it couldn’t have been solely because of his pregnancy or he wouldn’t have cared so much about him after it was over.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t bother you? That I’ve miscarried twice in four months? That I’ve been with multiple, uh, people?” Steve glanced at him, then said, almost inaudibly, “Not just with Alphas?”</p>
<p>“After the year you’ve had?” Bucky shook his head with a humorless laugh. “Not a bit. You’re a survivor. You hear me?” He faced Steve. “A survivor, and I couldn’t be more impressed with how well you’ve handled things. The military trains us to resist interrogation and torture and adverse circumstances, but we mostly don’t have to test those skills for real. Even so, the brass will privately admit that they don’t expect even half the soldiers to hold up to torture after a few hours. Most can’t and that’s just human nature. Some can. A very few can. A very few can thrive the more they’re tested, but even they’ll still fail at some point. Everyone fails. Everyone gives in to sustained torture. That’s just human nature, too. You? You didn’t receive a lick of training and look how well you’re doing.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m not. I’m not doing. Not at all.”</p>
<p>There was a choke in Steve’s voice and Bucky reached over to him. “Aw, honey, no,” he said. Tears were rolling down Steve’s cheeks. “Cry if you need to, sweetheart, but know I’m here for you and I think you’re pretty neat.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed, or maybe coughed, Bucky wasn’t sure. He caught and held onto Bucky’s hand. “’Neat’?”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Bucky said with obvious humor. “I may have been born in Brooklyn, but I was raised in Indiana.”</p>
<p>Steve shifted so he could lean on Bucky’s arm. After a moment, Bucky helped him stretch out on the seat with his head on Bucky’s thigh. They sat in silence for several minutes, letting the desert pass by. Eventually, Steve wiped his cheeks and tried a smile. “It’s all nice of you to say, but I’m not planning on holding you to anything.”</p>
<p>Bucky looked down at him, then dragged his fingertips through Steve’s hair. “If this is your way of getting rid of me, then I’ll leave without argument, but if you think you’re not good enough for me or something? If this is you being noble or something…” He shook his head. “Then that’s bullshit. You’re amazing, Steve. I’m the one who… I’m the one who let you down.” He felt tears in his own eyes and viciously wiped them away. “Shit,” he muttered.</p>
<p>Steve just blinked at him, his blue eyes huge and questioning. “What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“It’s true.” He shrugged and stared out the window. They were passing a sprawling resort and casino, an oasis of improbable green, concrete and glass in the middle of the brown desert. “I could have gotten you out of there months ago. I didn’t. I knew you were being mistreated. I knew your life had to be… unbearable. I just went ahead with my stupid mission – a mission that apparently never would have succeeded anyway – and let you suffer.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t all terrible,” Steve said with a self-deprecating frown. “I keep telling you. I lived at the White House. It’s not exactly the lap of poverty.”</p>
<p>“You were Pierce’s…” He mentally flailed for a kind way to put it than, “sex slave and don’t think I don’t know what that entailed.”</p>
<p>Steve rolled his eyes, belying the faint blush Bucky could see on his cheeks. “It’s not like I was screaming and crying the whole time. Parts of it were okay. The food was… that part was truly excellent. And I got to watch movies in the private theater. And bowl a couple times. And swim once or twice. And meet interesting people. And there was that one trip to Virginia Beach where they cleared all the people out so we could hang out with the president of Brazil and his family in a fancy beach house. That was mostly fun.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I kind of think of the rest of it like payment for not having to work or worry about my healthcare or-or struggle, really. I shouldn’t complain. A lot of people had it a lot worse. If the worst thing I had to do during the war was present ass-up a few times for something that ended up feeling nice anyway, well… I can’t honestly complain too much.”</p>
<p>Bucky stifled his chuckle. He truly admired Steve’s resilience even as he worried anger, fear, and resentment would all come flooding out later. “Doesn’t matter. I’m serious about that therapy. You’ll go, right?” He scratched gently along Steve’s scalp, enjoying the way his eyes fluttered shut with uncomplicated pleasure.</p>
<p>“I’ll think about it, but it’s not necessary.” He squinted up at Bucky. “I’m fine. Promise.”</p>
<p>“Do it anyway.”</p>
<p>Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He smiled a little as he wriggled to get more comfortable. “I’ll give it a shot.”</p>
<p>Satisfied, Bucky stretched out his legs and went back to stroking Steve’s hair.</p>
<p>Then Steve added, “As long as you do the same.”</p>
<p>Inordinately pleased, Bucky agreed. “I will if you will.” It was the best promise either of them could extract.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>It took another two hours for Happy to get them to HQ. Area 51 was out in the desert, heavily guarded, but when Happy pulled up to the gate, Bucky only had to lean forward and say, “Hi there. I have an exclusive contract,” for the guard’s eyes to light up.</p>
<p>“Welcome home, sir,” he said. “Please drive on through.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. And Now He's There</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Steve meets a lawyer, confronts (spoiler), and then he and Bucky agree on a go-forward plan.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The desert was still just dirt and rock and brown. At some point, they came to another fence and another guard post. Happy flashed a badge and they drove on through. Ten minutes more found them driving slowly past buildings that had clearly been meant to be temporary but had since become permanent. Alphas and Betas in simple uniforms strode purposefully along paved walkways. A set of Alphas in grey workout gear jogged by in formation, a Beta in blue gliding alongside calling a cadence. Steve twisted around to look out the back window; she seemed to be riding some kind of motorized scooter.</p><p>Cacti of different shapes and sizes dotted the landscape along with larger rocks and an occasional bench. Steve could see identification signs on the boxy, architecturally plain, buildings they passed, labeling them such things as building <strong>F</strong>, <strong>N</strong> or <strong>D3</strong>. In the distance, he thought he saw bleachers bordering a green field. A muscular Omega with long hair came out of another building wearing swim trunks and a white t-shirt. He (maybe she?) pulled on a brown ballcap and watched the limo pass by.</p><p>Then they drove up to a cluster of three larger buildings, clearly some sort of central location, arranged around an oval rock garden which was itself surrounded by a low concrete wall. As Happy turned to drive around it, Steve saw several cacti and a twisty metal sculpture he couldn’t immediately construe. Then the limo stopped and Bucky consolidated their trash into a single bag.</p><p>“So this is the end of the line, huh?” Steve asked.</p><p>“Not necessarily,” he replied with a small smile. Happy had gotten out and come around to Bucky’s side door. He leaned close to the glass. Bucky cracked the window slightly and called out, “Give us a minute, okay?” Happy nodded, smiled and gave a thumb’s up.</p><p>“I’m okay,” Steve said. “You don’t have to coddle me.” He was nervous, though. What would happen? Would he be expected to provide strategic intelligence? He didn’t know anything. They’d be so disappointed. They’d be disappointed and then they’d realize they had made a mistake offering him any support and they’d kick him out. It was such a long way back to the city. Maybe they’d give him a ride there. Maybe he’d… he could… he didn’t know what he could do.</p><p>Maybe the Barneses wouldn’t mind taking him in for a while. He could work. He could do something. He could learn to do more.</p><p>“I’m not coddling you,” Bucky said seriously. He faced Steve on the bench seat. “Look, I know you can do this. You’ve come through so much without any help and now…” He shrugged with a small smile. “… now you have me. And the people here. There are a lot of good people here. They’ll take one look at you and fight over who gets to be your best friend. Trust me, Steve. You’re an easy person to love. Like. I mean…” He sighed, then looked at Steve through his eyelashes. “You know what I mean.”</p><p>Steve sure hoped that was true. When he looked at Bucky, and when Bucky said those things to him, he thought he might be starting to believe it. “…Thanks.” They looked at each other for a long moment before Steve felt himself blush. “Come on. Let’s go. Can’t sit here forever.”</p><p>“Well, we could try,” Bucky said with a wink.</p><p>Happy was right there, of course, to hold the door for them as first Bucky, then Steve, stepped into the dry desert heat. In front of them was a flat-fronted building, maybe three stories high, with a single visible entrance. Two short steps up and Bucky was holding open the plain door, gesturing Steve inside. Happy followed with their backpacks.</p><p>Inside, it was surprisingly cozy. A spacious waiting room decorated in red, blue, bronze and green greeted them. Steve saw a receptionist desk, several couches and chairs, potted plants, and a small number of colorfully patterned woolen rugs on the wooden floors. He heard the pleasant sound of falling water and smelled a hint of orange and chlorine. To the left were two elevators. To the right was a stone wall and a large fireplace.</p><p>Bucky took him by one hand and led him toward the receptionist. She smiled up at them, then looked at Happy. “Hey, you made it!” she said. “I informed the director after you called from the airport. He’s delegated everything to Ms. Rosenthal and Miss Potts, who should be here in just a moment.”</p><p>Happy stepped forward. “I’m going to take care of the limo,” he said to Bucky and Steve. “It was a pleasure driving you two. Let me know if you need anything. I know the Boss wouldn’t be happy if you needed something and didn’t ask me.”</p><p>Bucky and Steve each shook Happy’s hand, ensuring him they would seek him out if necessary. He handed over their backpacks and left. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but one of the elevators dinged. They turned to see two figures approaching, a tall Beta and a shorter Omega. The Beta was dressed in a white pencil skirt with a tailored navy blue jacket. She wore spiked heels that showed off her long legs. Her reddish hair had been pulled back into a high ponytail. She smiled upon seeing, “Bucky! You’re really here!” She held out her arms.</p><p>Bucky swept her off her feet into a spinning hug. “Pepper Potts!” he replied with a laugh. He set her gently back down and looked at her with a huge grin. “What’s this I hear about you not letting Tony make a sex tape?”</p><p>Pepper gave him a scandalized look belied only by the sparkle in her eyes. “Bucky! I can’t believe you spent five minutes with him and that’s what you talk about.” She smiled kindly at Steve and held out her hand, taking his in a firm grip. “You must be Steve Rogers,” she said. “I’m Pepper Potts. I report to Tony Stark and represent his interests here at SHIELD. It’s so nice to meet you.”</p><p>“It’s very nice to meet you, too,” Steve said, falling back on his manners to avoid thinking about the exuberant way Bucky had greeted his old friend. She was just a friend, right? Wasn’t she dating Tony Stark now?</p><p>Pepper smiled and introduced them. “And this is Bernie Rosenthal. They’re a lawyer here to help Steve navigate his way through SHIELD’s particular brand of welcome wagon. I selected Bernie for this myself, because Bernie’s smart, thorough, and kind. You can both trust them.”</p><p>“Aw, thanks, Pepper,” Bernie said, displaying a deep dimple in their left cheek.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Ms. Rosenthal,” Steve said, shaking the Omega’s hand. Bucky took their hand next, looking seriously into their eyes for a moment before moving to stand next to Steve again.</p><p>“Call me ‘Bernie,’ please,” they said cheerfully. “And do you prefer Steve? Or…?”</p><p>“’Steve’ is great,” he said.</p><p>Bernie was a little taller than him, with thick, dark-brown hair and eyes, a trim figure and a friendly face. “Great! My notes said you prefer male pronouns, is that right?”</p><p>“Yes, thanks.” Being asked as part of a normal, polite conversation was so refreshing. “And you?”</p><p>Bernie made a see-saw motion with one hand. “I’m more in the middle. Some days more ‘he,’ some days more ‘she.’ ‘They’ is fine.”</p><p>Something chirped on the device in Pepper’s hand. She glanced at her oversized cellphone. Or was it a small tablet? Steve couldn’t tell. “Fudge. I’m being summoned to the lab. Bernie, let me know what I can help with. Steve? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again soon. Bucky? Welcome home. Also, uh, Tony mentioned you have the serum samples?” Bucky nodded. “Great! Dr. Erskine’s anxious to talk to you about it, as well as your experiences with Schmidt. He’s in the medical lab on level three. I’m going down to five.”</p><p>“Thanks, Pepper,” Bucky said. “I’ll come with you. Just a sec.” He leaned in toward Steve, handed him his backpack, and kissed him softly on his cheek. He whispered, “This is not the end of the line. I’ll find you later. I promise.” He turned around to keep looking at Steve, his own backpack swinging in his left hand, as he joined Pepper by the elevator bay. He pointed at Steve as he called out to Bernie, “You take good care of him. He's important! Nice to meet you!”</p><p>The elevator door opened, and Pepper entered the car without looking away from her device. “You can reach me through JARVIS. Both of you,” she called over her shoulder. “No matter what!”</p><p>“Go save the world, Pepper! And it’s nice to meet you, too!” Bernie called back at them with a laugh, then returned a friendly smile to Steve as the elevator doors shut. “So, about me. I’m originally from Queens, but I came out to Berkeley for law school. I was in my final year when the split occurred, so I stayed here. My family mostly stayed there and helped with the Jewish arm of the Resistance. SHIELD snatched me up and, as soon as I passed the Bar, joined their legal team for realzies. When I heard you had gotten out, I knew I wanted to help you however I could. I really admire you, Steve, for not stabbing Pierce in the eye the first chance you got.”</p><p>He laughed, a little startled. “Not like I could have gotten away with it.”</p><p>“That came out wrong,” they said, facepalming. “Sounds condescending or like I understand anything about what you went through.” Bernie looked at him, their smile fading. “Every Omega I’ve met who’s escaped the FSA – and there have been more than a few – had a terrifying story to share, each one worse than the next, each horrifying in its own way.”</p><p>Steve sighed. “I wasn’t harmed,” he said, wondering how many times he’d have to explain this. “I lived in utter luxury. You have to know this.”</p><p>They laid a hand on his arm. Deeply sincere, they said, “Then you need to know this. It’s not a competition. You want to know something I think is interesting? Every Omega I’ve talked to, when asked if they could, would they give what happened to them to someone else to experience so that their life would be normal and safe, each of them said ‘no fucking way.’ No one wishes what they went through on anyone else. What’s more? Each one of them thinks what they went through was nothing.”</p><p>It took Steve a little longer to parse the statement. Bernie was patient. “So… I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on my worst enemy, but at the same time, I think what I went through was easy?”</p><p>Bernie grinned sunnily. “That’s it! Oh, that’s so much better than how I put it. You’re smart. I like you.” They linked their arm with his and they walked to the elevator bay together. Steve shouldered his backpack. “Come on up to my office. We’ll order some sandwiches for lunch and I’ll get started on your paperwork. There’s a lot to go through.”</p><p>The elevator doors opened. They waited while three Alphas in military-style uniforms got off, then entered the car. Bernie pushed the button for the third floor. Steve noticed there was a button labeled <strong>R</strong> which he assumed meant ‘roof.’ There were also a dozen or so buttons marked with letters and numbers, such as <strong>M3</strong> and <strong>L1</strong>. “I’ve got your standard debriefing questions, then we can get into specifics. There’s a lot of specifics. You had serious access to Pierce and were a witness to the whole incident in the lab as well as a lot of other events. I can tell you SHIELD is eager to find out what you remember about all of it. But first, we’ve got to get you squared away – medical checkup, temporary ID, food vouchers. We’ve already arranged quarters for you, and a few changes of clothes. I’m afraid we only have workout clothes to offer right now. Hope you don’t mind sweatpants and SHIELD t-shirts.”</p><p>“I’d love them,” Steve said. “You don’t know how much I miss sweatpants. I almost don’t dare to ask for real shoes, too.” Covered legs? Warmth? Not showing his ass to everyone? He felt like he could weep with happiness.</p><p>“Of course, you can get shoes,” they said with a grin. “Traditional clothing sucks. You really only see it anymore at formal occasions and even then, it’s only if a person wants to.”</p><p>The doors opened on the third floor. Bernie gestured for him to go first. This was clearly an office level: industrial carpeting, bland colors, natural lighting. Bernie indicated they were to go around to the right. They’d gone about ten feet when they crossed paths with Natasha, whose sudden appearance startled Steve so much he cursed.</p><p>“The fuck are you doing here?”</p><p>Natasha, dressed in black pants and a dark purple scoop-neck short-sleeved shirt, sighed. Without looking away from Steve, she asked, “Bernie, let me talk to him for a moment, will you?”</p><p>“Of course,” Bernie said slowly, leading them to their own office just a few doors further on. “I imagine you two have a lot to talk about, but Nat, has Dr. Samson signed off on this?”</p><p>“I’m not seeing Samson,” Natasha said flatly. “He assigned me to Dr. Flynn. You know her?”</p><p>“Isabella?” Bernie turned and grinned over their shoulder as they used their handprint to open the office door. “She’s great. Runs a fantastic D&amp;D campaign on Thursdays… but you’re probably not interested in that.” They opened the door and ushered them both inside. “Have a seat.”</p><p>Steve followed Natasha inside the rectangular office space to see a long desk covered over in books and notepads with three computer monitors and at least four laptops in easy view. The other end of the room had two small couches facing each other over a little table. Since he got to choose first, he chose the couch facing the long bank of windows that looked out at another vista of brown. It was better than staring at the wall, anyway. He dropped his backpack on the floor. The weight of it against his foot felt comforting and real.</p><p>Bernie settled down in the well-worn wing-back chair covered over in a large floral print that in no way complemented the rest of the utilitarian look of the office. The chair sat between the two couches with full view of the office. Bernie gestured toward the other couch. “Have a seat, Nat. What’s up?”</p><p>It took a moment for Steve to realize Natasha was uncertain, uneasy. He’d always seen her in complete control of every situation. Seeing her hesitate now was making him nervous.</p><p>“I need to talk to Stevie alone,” Natasha said finally. “Could we have the room, please?”</p><p>Bernie shot a look of surprise back at her, then shook their head. “I’m sorry, Nat,” they said, “but I don’t feel comfortable leaving Steve alone just now. Say what you need to. I won’t necessarily interfere.” Bernie glanced at Steve, then folded their hands in a patient manner.</p><p>Natasha shifted her stance. “I could claim marital privilege,” she said.</p><p>Steve went cold. They were still bonded. She was still Steve’s next of kin. He was still stuck and everything he had dreamed about with Bucky was pointless and moot.</p><p>“Ummm…” Bernie scrunched up their face, then shook their head ‘no.’ “Yeah, I don’t think so. Sorry, Nat. Yes, you married Pierce and then bonded Steve, but you did it all under false pretenses. Pierce could have sued you for divorce over it, but he’s dead, which technically makes Steve your legal next of kin which gives both of you certain rights, but there’s still that pesky matter of your false pretenses. Nevertheless, judging by that rather lukewarm reception he gave you in the hallway, I’m going to strongly urge that Steve deny your request. That’s my official lawyerly advice. He can kick me out if he wants to, though, but that his decision.”</p><p>Steve remained silent and stared at the coffee table.</p><p>After a long moment, Natasha agreed. “Fine,” she said, and sat down across from him. She took a deep breath, crossed her legs and stretched her arms across the back of the couch. Her body language went from ‘nervous supplicant’ to ‘uber-confident negotiator’ in a flash. Steve decided that was a trick he needed to learn.</p><p>She turned her head to look away from them both. “I just wanted to say I’m glad Barnes got you out. I wasn’t sure he could. The smart play was to go with me. I got to the boat in forty minutes. I was in Nevada five hours later. Not even a whisper of trouble.”</p><p>Steve took a deep breath. “That may be,” he said, fighting to keep his tone even, his eyes on the low table, “but Angie needed medical attention. Is she okay?”</p><p>She waved her hand dismissively. “She’s fine. Just had an unexpected allergic reaction to the sedative the officers gave her. She was delivered to the Queen Mary and is probably canoodling with Peggy as we speak. You still should have gone with me. Barnes could have dropped Angie off at any urgent care facility or the ER and he’d still have gotten out and Angie would still have been fine. He’d have been faster without you.”</p><p>“You don’t know that. Any delay in getting out of DC…” He remembered the helicopters, and seeing Rumlow in that car next to their motorcycle, and the roadblocks they had been just minutes in front of. He glanced at Bernie. He wished he knew them well enough to tell if they were bracing themselves for something or if they just normally sat with their hands splayed on the armrests of their chair.</p><p>“But I do know that,” Natasha said. She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and actually looked at him. “Ultimately, of course, you both got out and the war is bound to end soon. Lt. Barnes’s mission ultimately turned out to be inconsequential.”</p><p>“Colonel,” Steve reminded her. He drew a hand down the back of his head, gathering his hair and draping it over his shoulder. He tugged gently at the ends. “He’s a colonel.”</p><p>Natasha held up a finger. “No, he’s only a colonel in the FS army. Those promotions he earned while in service of the FS? Weren’t exactly official.”</p><p>“He earned them,” Steve said, his voice still firm and level. The insult to Bucky bothered him just enough to give him courage to look her in the eye. He fought his instincts to avoid her gaze as she frowned at him.</p><p>“Fine,” she said. It sounded to Steve like she was just humoring him. “It was still a foolish risk and could have been avoided.”</p><p>“I disagree,” Steve said, turning his gaze down again, “but I still wouldn’t go anywhere with you. Not even now.” He tossed his hair back over his shoulder, then ran his hands down his borrowed jeans.</p><p>She blinked at him. She almost seemed insulted. “Even now? What do you mean? Why not?”</p><p>The answer was obvious to Steve. “I don’t trust you.”</p><p>She laughed, a throaty yet musical sound. “That’s stupid. I’ve done nothing but protect you. How could you not trust me?”</p><p>Surprise made him look directly at her. “Protect me? You were one of my chief tormentors.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “So dramatic. Everything I did was to protect you.”</p><p>“To protect <em>me</em>,” he repeated, baffled.  He touched his hand to his chest. “You don’t know squat about me, about who I really am. It’s not like you were sent over there to protect ‘Steve Rogers.’”</p><p>“No. Nor was protection of anyone my chief goal. I didn’t have to do ‘squat’ for you or for any of the others. I chose to.” She shrugged. “The end result’s the same. You weren’t harmed. I protected you.”</p><p>Steve felt his jaw drop. “I wasn’t harmed? What about that beating you gave me after the miscarriage?”</p><p>One perfectly shaped eyebrow pointed down toward the bridge of her nose. “The bastinado? On your feet?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>She rolled her eyes again. “Did you scar? No. Are you perfectly able to walk? Yes.” She spread her hands. “How is that harmed?”</p><p>Steve stared at her, then looked to see Bernie’s reaction. They just had their hand over their mouth, watching them. He looked at Natasha again. “You made me feel like shit, for one thing. I was already feeling terrible from the miscarriage, guilty and-and terrified, and you had Secret Service Alphas throw me down on the ground, strap me into that-that-that contraption and then you beat the soles of my feet!”</p><p>“Those weren’t Secret Service. That was federal police.”</p><p>Steve leapt to his feet, incensed at her pointless deflection. “You physically punished me for having a miscarriage!”</p><p>“I had to maintain my cover,” she replied, still not raising her voice. She leaned back on the couch and examined her perfect manicure. “What would you have had me do? Coddle and cry over you?”</p><p>“It would have been nicer,” he shot back.</p><p>She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. Again. “And Pierce would have been suspicious.”</p><p>He wanted to stab her eyes out. He would if she rolled them even one more time. “And what about the…” He glanced at Bernie, thinking and rethinking what he wanted to say next, then went ahead with it anyway. “What about the rape?”</p><p>Her frown doubled. “What rape? Who raped you?”</p><p>“Who didn’t?” He lifted his arms up and then let them fall down to his sides with a loud <em>smack</em>. “You, Pierce, Rumlow, that doctor.”</p><p>“Don’t forget Barnes, then,” she added.</p><p>Steve smiled and felt like a shark. “He was the only one who didn’t.”</p><p>“Ah, because you liked him. Yes, yes, he is very pretty,” she sneered.</p><p>“No. He’s the only one who treated me like a person. The only one who asked me what I wanted. The only one who took care of me.” There was movement and noise to his right; in his fury at Natasha, he ignored it.</p><p>“Oh, poor you,” Natasha said, getting to her feet. “You get pulled out of a horrible state-run school where your only fate is to be given off to an Alpha too ugly and awful to attract a mate on his own and put into the most privileged life imaginable: the White House. You don’t have to cook. You don’t have to clean. You get to wear beautiful clothes and meet famous people and all that’s required of you is to have sex. You don’t even have to only have sex with that old Alpha who can’t get it up without pills and injections, no! You get to have sex with virile Alphas in their prime. You get a Beta in your bed who looks after your pleasure. You <em>came</em> when you were with me. You can’t deny it! You had multiple orgasms. Don’t start crying about how awful your life was. Don’t start crying about <em>rape</em>.”</p><p>“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Natasha, shut the hell up!”</p><p>The words didn’t come from him, though. Steve, his mouth open to reply to Natasha, suddenly realized Bernie had been trying to get them to calm down for a while now. Shame-faced, he retook his seat. Natasha, however, merely straightened her clothing. “Very well,” she said at last. “It seems you have some reflection to do yet. Come find me when you’re ready to apologize.” She nodded at Bernie and left the office.</p><p>Steve slumped over sideways on the couch and covered his face with his hands.</p><p>**</p><p>Much later, Steve found himself sitting alone at a wooden picnic table just outside the commissary. Bernie had used their personal account to get him the daily special: three tacos, rice, beans, with extra chips and salsa. They sat with him for a while, chatting about life on the base and his schedule for the next several days before dashing off to a late meeting. He’d enjoyed his meal and his solitude while idly sliding chips through the last bits of salsa and taco toppings. He was watching the sun go down over edge of the far mountains when he heard a voice behind him.</p><p>“May I join you?”</p><p>He looked up and grinned. “Bucky! Of course! Please,” Steve said, indicating the bench on either side of him. “I was wondering when you’d turn up.” And fearing he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t about to share that.</p><p>Bucky was holding a tray containing his own taco platter. He set it down along with a bottle of pop, then climbed over the bench to sit close to Steve. He reached an arm around Steve’s shoulders and gave him a hug while he touched his cheek to Steve’s hair. “How’d the rest of your day go?”</p><p>“Good and bad,” Steve said, watching as Bucky now focused on spreading his salsa over his tacos. “Natasha’s here.”</p><p>“Yeah. I saw her.” Bucky picked up his first taco and bit off at least a third of it in one go.</p><p>“I yelled at her.” Steve watched, fascinated, as Bucky polished off his taco, seemingly swallowing in whole pieces.</p><p>“I heard,” Bucky said. He glanced at Steve. “Feel better?”</p><p>Steve thought about it. “Not really.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I should probably apologize to her.”</p><p>“Why?” Bucky picked up the second taco and regarded it. “Do you regret it? Were you wrong?”</p><p>“It wasn’t nice,” Steve said. “I wasn’t nice.” He rested his chin on his fist. “She could have been worse to me. I should be grateful she wasn’t… cruel.”</p><p>Bucky, halfway through his second taco now, let it drop onto his plate with a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? I guess she could have been worse, but she could have been nicer to you, too. She sure didn’t find it hard to be nice to Angie. She gave her a lot more freedom than you had.”</p><p>“Angie wasn’t bonded to the Pierces.”</p><p>“No,” Bucky conceded, “but she was still an Omega living in the White House attached to the First Family. Natasha gave her a lot more privilege than she should have. Therefore, she could have been nicer to you.”</p><p>Steve pushed his tray away from him so he could rest his arms on the top of the picnic table. “I can’t compare myself to others. They don’t live in my shoes, I don’t live in theirs.” He glanced at Bucky, noted his confused look. “It’s something my mother would say whenever I got cranky and whiny about being sick or not being allowed to go to regular school or whatever. She tried to get me to stop being envious of other people.” He shrugged. “Not sure I could stop, to be honest.”</p><p>Bucky slid his arm around Steve and gave him another side-hug. “Life isn’t fair. That should tell you it’s not easy.” He returned to his dinner plate. “I would also suggest you’re entitled to your feelings. You didn’t have it easy in there and you thought you were all alone.”</p><p>Steve considered Bucky’s words while he watched the sun abruptly disappear behind the far-off mountain range, plunging the desert into a strange blue-blackness. With the sunlight gone, starlight was allowed to limn the buildings, the road and the cacti, giving everything a soft bluish glow. It was lovely, completely unlike the harsh daylight. Above him, thousands of stars came into view, winking their little lights at him, at everyone on Earth who was living in enough darkness to finally see them. The sun was just another star, he’d had it explained to him once. The Earth was so close to it that the sun’s light just drowned out everything else. The Earth had to turn away from this closest star in order to see all the other suns, in order to enjoy their beauty.</p><p>Pierce was like that, he thought. Pierce was that dazzling, explosive, searing sun that bleached away all the color, that rendered the desert sere, brown and unwelcoming. Take it away, take away that one single star, and suddenly the beauty of the world became evident once more: delicate, spiritual, mythic.</p><p>Of course, the sun was going to come back around, and it was important to all life on Earth that the sun keep shining down, so maybe the metaphor didn’t hold up all the way through, but for right now, Steve felt like maybe there was once again some room for beauty.</p><p>“So, Steve, I wanted to let you know. I’m not sure if Bernie got a chance to tell you about your accommodations?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Steve said. “I’ve got a VIP room in Building J. I got the key, dropped off my backpack. It’s a cute room. It’s got windows and everything. Bernie’s going to see about getting me some gym clothes to wear while they figure out what to do with me.” He snickered. “Bernie thinks we can sue the Pierce estate for at least my share of the family fortune, now that he’s been declared dead. Turns out my bonding was probably as legal as it could be while Natasha’s marriage could very well be set aside as it was based on fraud, which means I <em>maybe</em> could claim a full marriage to Pierce, which means I <em>maybe</em> would have a solid claim to his entire estate. Barring whatever he set aside for his kids, of course. So that should be nice.”</p><p>“It does sound nice,” Bucky said. He’d mixed up the beans and rice and eaten most of the resulting mound of mush. “I’m in J, too, by the way. Um. Right next door, actually. Which is what I wanted to tell you. So. That’s convenient. For me, anyway.”</p><p>“Probably for me, too,” Steve said with a smile and a gentle bump of his shoulder against Bucky’s arm.</p><p>“Good,” Bucky said. “Good, good, good.” He nodded his head. Solar-powered safety lights from the commissary behind them lit up Bucky’s face just enough that Steve thought he might actually be blushing a little, which Steve found flattering and encouraging. “So, I wanted to ask you, that is, I wanted to say, that if we had met any regular way, you know, if I bumped into you at a coffee shop, or we were introduced by mutual friends, or I kept seeing you at the park and got up the nerve to say hello, I would want to. Say hello, that is. Get to know you. Let you know me. Socialize. Court. Ship.” He coughed. “Courtship. I’m saying I’d like to court you, Steve.”</p><p>Steve couldn’t prevent the grin spreading across his face. “You’ve already –“ he glanced around the patio, making sure they were alone, “-<em>had sex</em> with me. Now you want to court me?”</p><p>Bucky was definitely blushing. He glanced at Steve, glanced away, then turned to face Steve on the bench. “Yes. I know. It’s backwards, but I want to date you. Treat you right. I want to get to know you, as you really are, away from all the drama of the White House, the danger and the spying and the guns – all that shit. And I want you to get to know who I really am. I’m not just a pretty face with mad fighting skills. I want you to know that.”</p><p>“It’s important to you, huh?” Steve looked up at Bucky. He was beautiful in full daylight, Steve knew, and he was exquisite in starlight, his eyes dark and full of emotion, his lips full and kissable. Steve rested a hand on Bucky’s arm.</p><p>“It is,” Bucky agreed. “I want this to work. I want us to have a real shot.” He leaned in close. “You’re too important to do this half-assed. I want the full… ass.”</p><p>Steve tried so hard to keep a straight face but even Bucky had to laugh at his own verbal pratfall.</p><p>“Uh, I mean –“</p><p>“I hear you, Bucky Barnes,” Steve said, reaching up now to Bucky’s face. “Now you hear me.” With that, he leaned up and pressed his mouth against Bucky’s. They kissed softly, thoroughly. Bucky had his hands now on Steve’s shoulders, gently rubbing, now cradling Steve’s head with one hand while slipping the other down to Steve’s waist. This courtship thing, Steve thought, was going really well.</p><p>One of the glass commissary doors slammed open and someone shouted, “Hey, Barnes! Come quick!”</p><p>Bucky pulled back from Steve and yelled over his shoulder. “I’m busy!”</p><p>“We can all see that,” snickered the unknown person. Steve peeked past Bucky’s shoulder and saw only an ordinary-looking Alpha in military fatigues. “But you’re going to want to see this. We’ve retaken the capitol. We’re in DC! The war’s over! It’s finally over!”</p><p>Bucky and Steve looked at each other in surprise, excitement and shock, then jumped up from the picnic table. Bucky took charge of disposing their trash properly, then held the door while Steve preceded him into the commissary. Every television, suspended around the ceiling, was tuned to the same news channel as anyone with a cellphone, laptop or iPad. Every available screen showed images of the District of Columbia, US troops crossing the Potomac and marching along the streets, a large green hulk of a man splashing in the reflecting pool of the National Mall while a man with a compound bow looked on and laughed hysterically, and two men in iron suits flying loop-de-loops in the night sky above the capitol rotunda while the US accepted the unconditional surrender of the FSA from one of their remaining generals.</p><p>It was over. It was finally over.</p><p>Bucky gathered Steve in his arms and squeezed him tight. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I almost can’t actually believe it.”</p><p>“You can go home again,” Steve said, laughing. He pulled back and smiled up into Bucky’s face. “You can go back home again.”</p><p>Bucky, grinning widely, nodded and said, “We can both go home. You’re coming with me.”</p><p>“Of course,” Steve agreed. “I still have to return your mother’s Tupperware.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>THE END</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>But in the end, one needs more courage to live than to kill himself. ~ Albert Camus</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this is done. I do foresee sequels of various lengths at some point. Subscribe and know it may be awhile. Very few named characters were made up by me, so if you're curious about where things might be going, check out the Marvel or MCU wiki. Oh - and no characters were based on real people except where they totally were.</p><p>Thank you all for sticking with me through this! I know it was a hike. I just hope it was worth it.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Triggers and other Spoilery Notes: I don’t typically include trigger warnings, so if I’ve put something into this story that should have a tag but doesn’t, please let me know. I don’t intend to re-traumatize anyone, but I also know that some people don’t like spoilers of any sort. Still, I want to state that Steve ends up in sexual servitude and routinely gets roofied in order to make him more compliant while being raped/abused in a public setting. Even so, he kind of wants the not-quite-Rohypnol because it makes him forget most of what happens to him. Steve’s just trying to survive an impossible situation, doing the best he can, which is all anyone can ask of anyone in real life. If you’re struggling with similar issues and you’re not currently getting help, please please please seek a competent therapist. There does exist one out there who can help you.</p>
<p>Further, Steve does get pregnant and does experience a miscarriage. He is then treated to verbal and physical abuse in retaliation for this perceived failure. Let me be clear: miscarriages happen much more frequently than people realize and are NOT caused by any failure on the part of the pregnant person. Natasha’s words and actions in this particular scene do NOT reflect the views of the author (who is very much of the opinion that miscarriages happen whether we’re ready for them or not) (the author has had two of her own). Once more, if you have experienced miscarriage and are struggling with it, please forgive yourself and seek the services of a competent therapist if necessary.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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